I didn’t sleep well last night. I don’t know where they hold the big event. But it sounds to me like I am less than a mile from the fireworks.
I’ve been up so long I was exhausted by 8 a.m. Tells me I’m looking at a couple of Tylenol at some point today.
I proudly celebrate the 4th of July because of what it means. But where on earth did thunderous booming sound play into it? I’m sure there’s something historically significant about the noise, but it wreaks havoc with my system.
Yet every year, I hunker down, turn my sound (white noise) machine up, and get through it.
So it’s not just dogs that are negatively affected by these loud noises. I’m wanting to hide in a closet under ten blankets myself.
I normally sleep well, thanks to the cocktail of medication my doctor makes sure I take (otherwise I would rarely sleep; a lifelong problem as well), and I fell asleep okay.
But I woke up in the wee hours of darkness, wide awake. As though the loud sounds had penetrated my slumber and turned on many alarms in my head.
I’m one of those people who simply does not fare well without eight hours of sleep. I know others can get by on five to six. But not me. I am like a slug the next day if I miss a mere hour or two. Muddling through the day with my gauge stuck on empty.
And little Miss Abi, who pretty much runs the place, has developed new habits.
Just before it’s light outside, she has started getting right in my face, and uttering, “Eh” She will pause a moment to see if she’s gotten my attention. Then I’ll hear “Eh” again.
Abi is not one to be ignored. She is fussy and dramatic and demands her needs be met. Now.
When I’m on the mat doing my evening round of yoga stretching, she lies beside me on the floor whining. She wants me to hurry up, get up, take my evening shower, and give she and Charlie their daily spoonful of non-fat cottage cheese.
Before I even start my exercises, she let’s me know it’s time to get off the computer. She paws at me and moans and groans and acts silly till I can’t concentrate.
Which she then knows will be the time I do my stint on the mat. Which then means mom will have her second shower of the day. Which then means a teaspoon of cottage cheese.
I just hate cottage cheese. It gives me the willies just dishing it out on their separate plates. But they gobble it up like they’re half-starved. Which they aren’t, believe me.
These Yorkies, as you know, have to eat special food, a diet that keeps pancreatitis at bay. It’s not cheap. But then a stint in the animal hospital sure isn’t cheap either. And I can’t stand to see them in pain.
But, like me, they are compulsive, probably following my internal clock. And when it’s nearing time for that spoonful of cottage cheese, which she will fight poor Charlie over if I don’t hold her after she’s gobbled her own portion down, she’s emphatic. Not to be reasoned with.
Oh, and she’s not done with her shenanigans. Each time I eat lunch or supper, Abi eats then too. At lunch she’ll eat her hard food. But as soon as I start eating, she sets up another fit.
She wants me to fill her bowl with more food, even though there’s plenty there. And then empty the water bowl and put a fresh bowl back down.
The whole thing is played out again at supper time.
These dogs have me trained well. Geez Louise.
Another strange little quirk she has: If something falls to the floor and makes any sound, or there’s just a sudden noise of any variety, Abi immediately jumps Charlie.
I put a stop to that pretty quick. But why on earth would a noise cause her to jump him and start a fight? He didn’t cause the noise.
Has she adopted my fear of sounds?
I just hate to take the garbage bag out of the trash can, because Abi sees that as a possible trip out the door, where she will be separated from me. Lord, she sets up a racket over that.
And if I go anywhere near that door to step outside and retrieve the mail, you’d think someone is beating her. And I’m in full view the whole time.
So this is an added reason I don’t like to go out. It’s instant calamity.
Today, after the loud fireworks played drums and cymbals in my head, I am not in the mood for much drama. I am tired. And there will be no afternoon nap. I cannot sleep at all when it’s light outside.
Heavens, when I came home after ankle surgery last November, after just having woken up from the anesthetic, I was wide awake all day. No slack time for me.
It just isn’t in my DNA to take a nap of any variety. I have never in my life fallen asleep with a TV on. Or slipped off in my easy chair. Will not every happen.
Well, both Abi and I are members of the weird duck society. Can’t teach old dogs new tricks.
What weird and annoying habits have your pets acquired?