Doggo: The blessing and the curse
This is the beginning of my attempt to write every day. Ideally, I will write first thing in the morning. I have been intending to begin this practice for quite some time, however, it's only now, now that we have moved from our second floor, one-bedroom apartment with our cutest-pup-in-the-world Tux, into a house only a block away, that I feel confident that I can begin this practice with some consistency.
Before moving into this new space, I felt like it was futile to even begin trying because our mornings were completely dictated by our fur-baby. When we woke up, what we did when we woke up, when we first set foot out of the apartment, were all details influenced fully by Tux. When I got out of bed it was to take him out to the common grassy area, on-leash, to satisfy his early morning biological needs. Then we'd come back upstairs to feed him. Then a few minutes later after I'd quickly made coffee and a Kachava smoothie while he was eating, I would take him out on a walk. My goal was to get some wiggles out for him so he would be more manageable when Linda took him to her school. If he had too much energy at school it made for a rough day full of nipping at kids and driving Linda crazy in the classroom.
We've just moved into a new house that I've been "jokingly" saying we were procuring in because we were buying Tux a house, and now our mornings have some semblance of independence again.
Just as I write this Tux has emerged from his sleepy little corner to come slobber on my toes and do Cat-Cow stretches near me.
Looking back on the shifts that Tux has necessitated in our lives, however, I am grateful for almost every single one. Waking up early to take him out got me up earlier, a practice I had wanted to habit but could not figure out a way to do. Taking him out on an early morning walk got me out, walking in the early morning light, often before sunrise, which gave me the chance to see the morning come awake, from the pitch-black into a golden morning, slowly bursting through the tall trees in our neighborhood. I routinely complained about how much Tux seemed to control my morning time, however, these little requisites were adding to my life, not subtracting, they were preparing me, even if in a minuscule way, for the routines of parenthood some, not-too-far-off day. The routine that Tux trained us on, early to bed, early to rise, more discipline in the morning, due to having a small place that he could not let himself out of, trained me well. Now that we have a bigger space with a yard that he loves to explore on his own I have the morning-time discipline to wake up, ready to spring into caretaking, realize that it's no longer necessary, and find an answer that feels good to the question "Now that I'm awake, what shall I do with my morning?"
Thanks, Tux!
Before moving into this new space, I felt like it was futile to even begin trying because our mornings were completely dictated by our fur-baby. When we woke up, what we did when we woke up, when we first set foot out of the apartment, were all details influenced fully by Tux. When I got out of bed it was to take him out to the common grassy area, on-leash, to satisfy his early morning biological needs. Then we'd come back upstairs to feed him. Then a few minutes later after I'd quickly made coffee and a Kachava smoothie while he was eating, I would take him out on a walk. My goal was to get some wiggles out for him so he would be more manageable when Linda took him to her school. If he had too much energy at school it made for a rough day full of nipping at kids and driving Linda crazy in the classroom.
We've just moved into a new house that I've been "jokingly" saying we were procuring in because we were buying Tux a house, and now our mornings have some semblance of independence again.
Just as I write this Tux has emerged from his sleepy little corner to come slobber on my toes and do Cat-Cow stretches near me.
Looking back on the shifts that Tux has necessitated in our lives, however, I am grateful for almost every single one. Waking up early to take him out got me up earlier, a practice I had wanted to habit but could not figure out a way to do. Taking him out on an early morning walk got me out, walking in the early morning light, often before sunrise, which gave me the chance to see the morning come awake, from the pitch-black into a golden morning, slowly bursting through the tall trees in our neighborhood. I routinely complained about how much Tux seemed to control my morning time, however, these little requisites were adding to my life, not subtracting, they were preparing me, even if in a minuscule way, for the routines of parenthood some, not-too-far-off day. The routine that Tux trained us on, early to bed, early to rise, more discipline in the morning, due to having a small place that he could not let himself out of, trained me well. Now that we have a bigger space with a yard that he loves to explore on his own I have the morning-time discipline to wake up, ready to spring into caretaking, realize that it's no longer necessary, and find an answer that feels good to the question "Now that I'm awake, what shall I do with my morning?"
Thanks, Tux!
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