I am not a morning person. I am a stay up til midnight, sleep until 8am sort of person. I drag myself out of bed to see the teens off to school but we all know I’m window dressing at that hour; I don’t truly function until after eight and my first cup of coffee. Not either/or but both. BOTH.

Except now there’s Gracie.

In her older age we’re dealing with gut issues and it is a resounding testament to my love for this dog that I haven’t bludgeoned her big fluffy head. You see, when BrightSide was isolating for Covid Gracie took to demanding a morning bathroom run by getting up on the bed and hitting me until I wake up. Sometimes she stands on me. One time she plopped her furry butt down on my stomach and sat until I came to.

Did I mention this happens at six in the morning?

SIX IN THE EARLY EARLY MORNING HOURS.

Now she isn’t lying, she really truly does need to go to the bathroom, and I suppose I’m grateful she demands I take her instead of christening the carpet. BrightSide says she’ll only pee for him because she’s too excited about breakfast, but in the true spirit of mamas everywhere the first day she pulled this I summoned my sternest parenting voice and issued forth a command in my oh so dark yard:

YOU DID NOT DRAG ME OUT HERE IN 30 DEGREE WEATHER TO DO A TINY TINKLE. BREAKFAST IS NOT GOING ANYWHERE, NO ONE WILL TAKE YOUR FOOD, SO WE WILL STAY OUT HERE UNTIL YOU POOP AND THAT IS MOST SURELY THAT.

Thus began our fifteen minute poop outings at the crack of freaking dawn.

See that second photo? It is DARK still. These are the still dark hours when not even the sun is up because WE ARE ALL STILL SUPPOSED TO BE SLEEPING. Yet here we are.

Today “here we are” translates to my kitchen floor. Because this huge fluffy galump of a dog has her chin on my lap and is resting peacefully while I watch the sun come up and write.

This is not some heartfelt post about how my dog showed me the precious gift of morning dark hours where the house is still quiet and peaceful. Sorry to disappoint. She keeps trying to teach me that lesson — over and over and over again — but circadian rhythms are a tough nut to crack. Just know I love her big fluffy noggin and that coffee is working some sort of dark magic on the daily in our home.