Growing Pains

IMG_7998 (1)Like most dogs, I like routine — and my daily routine goes something like this: Get up and get a long tummy rub from my human while I stretch and yawn. Walk around the hood and check out all the fantastic smells. Get a “Good Girl” cookie when I return home and do my little cookie dance, because nothing tastes better than the first treat of the day. Then, I jump up on my leather chair and keep watch on the postal carriers, sandhill cranes and mommies walking their kids while my human types away at her keyboard and sips her coffee.

It’s nothing spectacular, my morning routine, but it’s MY routine and it sort of keeps me grounded.

Only this morning, it didn’t quite go like that. I mean, I got my tummy rub and walk and stuff — and the cookie was lovely, as always. But when I jumped up into my viewing station, my usual perfect landing turned into a sloppy tumble off the edge and I realized I was stuck. Ack!

I hoped my human wouldn’t notice the embarrassing predicament, so I stood very still and rested my  head on the soft leather cushion. I’ve heard that if you stand very still, sometimes, you can actually disappear. Poof! Like David Blaine. But of course, she noticed, and giggled and boosted my rear back into my seat. I wasn’t sure what she thought was so funny about it. It wasn’t funny to me: A shrinking seat. A tumble. A ruined morning.

Anyway, I must have looked pathetic, because then she patted my head and told me something absolutely amazing. “Georgie, it’s okay. Your seat didn’t shrink. You’re growing, sweet girl.”

Huh? Growing? Me? Really?

I honestly hadn’t even considered the possibility — but then I thought about it. During our car ride yesterday, the view was better than ever before. Normally, I just see the treetops whizzing by in a dizzying blur, but yesterday I saw other cars and buildings! And then there was that wrestling session with my buddy, Ivy, night before last. I didn’t have to stand on my tip-toes to get a good grip on her. We were practically eye-to-eye. And there was also that fine moment last night, when I surprised everyone and leapt like a leopard right into the giant human bed. Wow! This growing thing might not be so bad after all.

After the revelation, my human and I headed out into the yard for a quick romp and enjoyed the warm Florida sunshine on my face. And when we headed back in, I leapt more carefully into my viewing station and didn’t slide off this time. Not every tumble, I realized, is a disaster. Sometimes, it just means you’re growing.




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