Aug 17, 2015

Early Morning Love

Jax and Lila are in trouble. 

They are in trouble this morning for waking the entire house at 5:30 this morning when I left for spin class. 

Taking all precautions, I closed them in my room with dental hygienic and easily digestible rawhide (for my hipster dogs), only to come home to find they had been crying. And scratching. And whining. And barking. From the time the lock of the front door clicked and I scattered down the steps, their cries rang through the entire house. 

It's easy to be frustrated when it's been a solution-less problem for weeks now. The rawhide, I thought, was the key to silence so early every Monday and Wednesday morning. Not so much. 

As soon as I set my gym bag down on the dining table, I could hear the not-so-subtle scratches behind the door furthest down the hall. I sighed, knowing it had been another failed attempt. Jax and Lila euphorically pranced from behind the closed door as soon as I entered, clicking their nails against the hardwood as they moved. Sigh. 

I moved about the house continuing the normal after-spin routine: Keurig, ON. Channel 8 WFAA morning news, ON. All the while being followed by my two noisy little companions. Kitchen, living room, bedroom. Click. Click. Click. 

It's easy to be frustrated, but it's even harder to remain that way when I have two reminders on my heels following me from room to room. It's incredibly easy to love them as much as I do when they return any ounce I pour into them, ten-fold. Instead of allowing my head to remain in the anger induced cloud, I heard the little clicks of toe nails and was instantly grounded. 

We paced ten legs together to my office and grabbed the Canon laying at the edge of my desk, and returned to the living room where the 7:30 sun streamed through the blinds in the dreamy way it does.  I lowered myself to the floor indian style, and waited for the calm. Patiently. Eventually, they gave into their exhaustion and lay close together. We'll figure out a solution to the nonsensical turmoil that rises every time I leave. They'll be loud again, and I'll be frustrated. Then I'll look at them and see it's all because they simply don't want me to go and remember just how much I love them. For now, things are quiet and still and as wonderful as the not-so-little fur babies that lay before me. 

Cheers to early morning love,