We keep our 8-month old pup in a kennel next to the bed at night so that we (I) can hear her when she gets squirrelly, which generally means we (I) need to get our (my) sleepy butts out of bed, like, NOW if we don't want to be cleaning up biohazardous waste at 2:30 in the morning.
Biohazardous waste is never pleasant, but at 2:30 in the morning, it sucks. X 10.
She's been doing great. She's even taken to whining to signal us that she's ready for her moonlight pooper. We're thrilled about this progress. (I really am.)
So last night, she got up as expected at about 2:20, and we trudged outside and took care of business. Then we stumbled back upstairs. Wednesday (the pup in question) was tucked back into her cozy little kennel, and I was out like a light. Perfect.
Only she got all squirrelly again at 5:50.
Which I chose to ignore. I mean, c'mon. It was 5:50. I didn't want to trudge in the moonlight again. It wasn't fair. We already trudged. And pooped. She had to chill out, that was all there was to it. I had serious sleeping to do before my alarm went off at 6:15. Serious sleeping.
Only then she whined.
I can't ignore the whine. The whine is the "I'm not kidding, I really gotta go" signal. Can't mess with success. It might have been more early morning than middle of the night, but biohazardous waste still sucks at that time of day. Period.
So I haul my sleepy butt out of bed, and open her kennel door with leash in hand, grumpily ready for more trudging and pooping and things of that nature.
That little shiznit darts out of her kennel, and makes a beeline for my bed. She jumps up and frantically burrows under the covers to the very foot of the bed and then lies very still. Like if maybe she didn't move, I wouldn't realize what had just happened. That no little beastie had just escaped and was now cozily concealed under a mound of down comforter. And I'd crawl back in bed and get 20 more precious minutes of sleep because she was so freakin' cute for her ingenuity and spunk.
And it totally worked. Because that's exactly what happened.
So, you're right, Papa. She's spoiled. There. I said it. She outsmarted me at 5:50 this morning, and I totally let her get away with it.
But with a face like this, could you really blame me?
(For the sake of full disclosure, this photo was NOT taken this morning, but on a previous morning when it was essentially wake-up time but we decided that it would be more fun to cuddle than it would to go downstairs and pour cereal for noisy Nelson children. No duping took place here. She wasn't spoiled yet. Obviously.)