Feeling sleepy on a Monday morning? And do you happen to have a puppy around you? Here is a simple step by step wake up routine for you!
For this experimental method you will need:
- a puppy
- an overfilled cup of not too hot coffee (I use milk)
- your laptop
- the capacity of brain-farting your way with no evidence of rational thinking for the next 51 seconds of your life.
Step 1: aww, he seems tired but wants to be close. Easy fix: place the dog on the chair beside yours, on your right if you are right-handed and vice versa.
Step 2: 47 seconds have passed. More than enough time: assume he is sleeping.
Step 3: grab your dangerously overfilled cup of coffee to have a sip.
Step 4: when the cup is circa 20 to 25cm away from your face, notice, from the corner of your eye, how the puppy is, in fact, very much awake.
Step 5: experience the sudden realization, in a sort of slow motion, that he is not only very much awake, but also heading directly for your cup. Or your wrist. Or your jumper. Who cares: he is coming. You might see flashes of your childhood and teenage years pass in front of your eyes.
Step 6: stay strong, stay focused. You are a man (or woman) of action, you can handle this. In a fraction of a millisecond understand the following: you cannot move the cup away from him since it would place it just above your laptop. You cannot pull it away from the laptop since it would shorten the distance coffee-puppy, you could try to move back your hand the way it came from, place the cup back on the table with minor spillage and then, with poise and a carefully curated tone of voice and body language, reprimand the pup and explain to him that his course of action was a path of chaos and destruction.
Nah, why do that. Life is short. Proceed to step 7.
Step 7: convince yourself of the following statement: “I am a man (or woman) of action, I can keep my hand 100% steady and not spill a drop of coffee while verbally encouraging my 11-week-old dog not to use my wrist as a chewing toy, and a simple ‘no no no’ with mild panic in my voice should do it”
Step 8: who are you kidding. You already lost. A random thought pops into your head while you face your inevitable demise: this would have been way cooler if filmed in slow motion with Nessun Dorma as a soundtrack.
Step 9: existential interlude: curse yourself, this is the third puppy in your life. You’re almost 40. You should know better.
Step 10: ladies and gentleman, we are airborne! The pup has taken off. His face and front paws are now flying towards your wrist at an increasing speed.
Step 11: in a final attempt to spare the pup and the laptop, accelerate the motion of the cup towards yourself while you recoil away from him. You can still make him miss your wrist altogether and crash land on your leg even if it means a tiny bit more coffee spillage due to increased cup inertia.
Step 12: the last words of Nessun Dorma are, “vincerò, vincerò”. Literally “I will win, I will win.” How ironic.
Step 13: he did not miss your wrist.
Step 14: the puppy does not hold onto it and safely lands on your thigh. Not a drop of coffee on him.
Step 15: I literally threw a cup of coffee in my face is the way to describe your new life achievement.
Step 16: you are awake!
Dear world, meet Ricky!
Note: my last entry was my farewell to Faro. Farín, cocodrilo, I still miss him every single day.
I actually feel guilty that my very next published text here will be such a cheerful welcome of another dog into the family, Ricky. However, as I try to get over the loss of my friend, I have to come to terms that “very next published text” is not only grammatically strange, but also a bit misleading: it’s been 7 months of silence…
Interesting enough, Ricky has traits that remind us of our first crocodile. While Nero (8 years old and half-brother of Faro) was a super easy pup, this new rough collie (that’s the breed’s name, not the attitude…) shows signs of being a cheeky one, rebellious, vocal… but also super sweet.
Hence, Faro’s name has been mentioned quite often in our house hold since Ricky’s arrival. And I think that’s beautiful.
I can grieve while moving forward, and rest assured: I will embrace and celebrate Ricky for the dog he is. We’ll let him find his own path, even at the expense of our furniture, shoes, clothes. Even if it requires some extra coffee mopping on the floor…