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Tails of Maggie & Katie: Good Morning! GAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKK Bathroom Time
Good Morning! GAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKK Bathroom Time
by B. A. Brown
I keep the bathroom door open (unless of course I have company).
I do this to protect my knees.
The bathroom is small. The porcelain facility is right next to the door.
If the door is closed, and one is seated, any attempt at opening the
door is halted by one's knees. Any violent attempt to open the door is
prone to cause damage to the occupant's left knee and thigh. Holding the
door closed with a hand is ineffective. Using the human-at-party
"Someone is IN here!" silliness does not work either.
Katie has determined that my visits to the bathroom are also Our Own
Special Time Together.
Which means, in her little doggie brain, that whilst I am seated, and
doing nothing much of importance anyway, I am supposed to rub her back.
Every time. Katie can tell from footsteps when I have entered the Our
Special Time room, and she RUNS to join me. Maggie rarely joins in. She
is too slow off the mark, and there is simply no room for two dogs in
there. Unless they cooperate, and Katie rarely cedes her postion of
power. If Maggie insists, then we have a traffic jam; there is
insufficient room for them to turn around, both must back out. Both are
reluctant to do so. It takes much maneuvering for me to gain enough room
to stand up, yell "Back up, back up," supervise the exit process, push
reluctant woofers out into the hallway.
OK - I have long ago given up. I leave the door open, I accede to the
back-rubbing assignment.
We have an early-morning routine established. We wake up -- whether by
normal processes or spurred on by canine snuffling, whining, woofing,
barking, leaping, licking, it matters not -- we sit on the edge of the
bed waiting for back and other skeletal implements to agree to work.
We arise, go into the bathroom.
Yes. Mommy goes first. Dogs must wait. It may not be fair, but too bad.
Then we wander into the kitchen. If there is leftover coffee, Mom
prepares same for the microwave, hits the required buttons, and finally,
dogs are allowed to go out. If there is no leftover coffee, dogs must
wait until a new pot is prepared and percolation has begun. It is a law.
They fully understand these laws. They accompany me to the kitchen and
the lie down and wait quietly, until they hear the sounds of either
microwave beeps or Mr Coffee gurgles, then they arise and go take their
places by the back door.
[There are exceptions to these laws, of course. Signs of imminent
barfing or sudden attempts at squatting do take precedence.]
Upon return, there is a milk bone given out to each dog who has
successfully "gone out."
This, too, is a law, although I am not sure how or when it was enacted.
But I digress.
This morning, there was an exception. Maggie had to go NOW. We skipped
the usual process, dogs went outside before all the other customary events.
Mom had then taken the opportunity to retrace her steps. She was in the
Our Special Time room.
Katie came back in from outside to join me. I rubbed, as required. She
offered her gratitude.
To Katie, this demonstration of gratitude comes in the form of "a kiss."
"A kiss" in Maggie parlance, is a gentle lick on one's hand or arm.
To Katie, it is a leap of the frontquarters up from the floor, and a
forceful planting of her snout somewhere in the vicinity of your chin or
mouth. Sometimes she misses, and the doggie nose meets with the human
nose, a painful encounter.
Sometimes, the "kiss" includes an involuntary (or maybe not so
involuntary, I have my doubts) belch.
This morning I got the kiss-replete-with-belch.
OH GODDDDDD OH YUCCCCCCCCH OH GAAAAAAAKKKKKKKK
Katie had been indulging in her (usually reserved to wintertime)
propensity to ingest already ingested and digested and egested
matter. Her own personal recycling program.
Her breath was that of kimchi with a hefty overlay of dog shit, and
perhaps a soupcon of mud and grass, and other unidentified rotten stuff.
It is not fair. No coffee. No warning. No protection.
I have now scrubbed my face several times. I swear I can still smell the
awful offensive odor. I have plied Katie with green milkbones, various
people foods, even a tic tac. She finds this all very delightful.
..... and now, more Tails of Maggie & Kate (ongoing stories, please keep checking back to see what has been added)
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