It starts with the quiet percolating of coffee and the distant spray of a shower. It winds up slowly and before long feet are pounding the floor and drawers are opening and shutting. Sometimes a few pieces of clothing are thrown into the dryer near my kennel, to be de-wrinkled.
Usually at this point, they remember that I should go out and after a few belly rubs they let me out in the yard. I return in a few minutes and rush from room to room as they find clothes, and cook breakfast. My favorite place to sit is near the stove as I can smell the bacon and eggs and there is a slight chance that some might fall onto the floor, for me to suck up.
As the moments tick on the scurry intensifies.
Hair dryers hum.
The search for the missing belts and shoes begins. It starts off as a surface search and then escalates into the deeper layers, as the belt must be located.
Eventually everyone is dressed and they quickly throw dishes into the dishwasher and Mom drops the crockpot in place. They do not say good bye.
They say, "kennel-up" and I watch them file out the door, as the last minute shoe hunt is concluded.
"Kennel-up," they say.
And then I spend a few hours, while they are at church, lounging in the my kennel smelling dinner simmer in the kitchen.
This post was inspired by Gypsy Mama where she challenges writers to compose an essay on one word, each week. There is a five minute time limit and the word yesterday was, good-bye. Check out Gypsy Mama here: