The Life of Bogart...

Every weekday morning my alarm goes off at 5 a.m. I hop up, stumble to the bathroom and take a hot groggy shower. When I'm done, I grab my clothes and look over at D and Bogart, peacefully alseep, the happy couple. Bogart is usually nestled in the fluffy folds of my pillow or under the covers completely. I finish getting ready in the downstairs bathroom (makeup, hair, etc. etc.) and then head to the kitchen for breakfast. When Bogart hears the bathroom door open, he leaps out of bed, gives his 6 pound body a little shake and crawls downstairs. I always wait for him in the entrance to the kitchen. He emerges from the dark shadows of the living room and into the kitchen light puffy faced and droopy eyed. He looks like an old wrinkled man and is absolutely cuter than words could ever describe. After I rub his belly and scratch behind his ears, I give him a piece of chicken jerky. Bogart LIVES for this stuff. The length of one piece is as long as his entire body, and he sits there knawing away at the tough treat as I make breakfast. By the time my oatmeal is ready and I've packed my lunch for the day ahead, he has completely devoured it. When we first bought the jerky and I would give it to him, I thought he hid half of it to save for later. He doesn't. He really eats it all at once, usually within a 5 to 10 minute time span. It is truly amazing. So I eat my breakfast while Bogart snuggles into my side on the couch. When I'm done, I pick Bogart up and hold him like a little baby. (ARE YOU TOTALLY PUKING BY NOW?) We go upstairs to lay with D for awhile and I kiss him goodbye. When I leave, Bogart and D are both fast asleep, once again. (Drew takes Bogart outside before he leaves and at lunch, do not be alarmed!). When I get home after work, 11 hours later, Bogart is ALWAYS laying at the top of the stairs asleep, waiting for someone to get home. ALWAYS. I'll walk in, say "Hi baby!" in a sugary sweet and very sickening voice. He'll pause, tilt his head to the side for just a moment and then dance downstairs to greet me. I say dance because his ass shakes uncontrollably. His tail wags so violently that if he were any bigger you'd feel the vibrations through the floor. He darts around the house with glee, happy that someone's home to pet his belly and feed him more jerky. GAWD I love my dog.