Sometimes Woody has to go out early in the morning, hours before we would normally get up. We always take him out before bed but sometimes, we think, he rushes through his business because he knows that the faster he gets back inside, the faster he gets his bedtime Greenie and he really loves that thing.
He is sweet and gentle about waking us up. Usually, he just gets out of bed and sits at the top of the stairs, waiting to be magically transported down to the door. Even though he doesn’t make any noise, we wake up when he does this. We’re on his wavelength or he sends us psychic messages or something.
Usually, it’s Tracy who takes him, but Tracy has been incapacitated by vertigo for the past two days, so this morning, when Woody woke up a little before five, I carried him down and suited him up (that’s what we call putting on his harness and leash) and took him out in my pajamas and bare feet. My shoes were upstairs and it just didn’t seem worth it to me to go and get them.
This is how it is with me early in the morning.
As much as I don’t like losing even one second of precious sleep, I always find there’s something a little bit magical about those early morning trips to the yard. It’s so dark and quiet and the streetlamps are muted amber. Often, there’s the aroma of roasting peanuts from the Smuckers factory. They work around the clock in there, you know.
There’s no traffic, no one moving around, it’s just me and Woody and it’s peaceful and expectant and it feels like the world is a dream except the dream is the reality and what comes next with the getting dressed and scurrying around is actually the unreal thing.
Maybe this is why he does it, because he wants to be out in that place, too, with the crystal air and the glowing leaves and the dew on the grass and everything open and resting.










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