Bear and I had a morning routine, it differed slightly on weekends. But, in general, it was unaltered. He didn't much like change, and he loved routine. Routine was good, knowing what to do and what came next made him feel secure & safe.
We would get up around 5:00 am, before sunrise. If I didn't make a move to get out of bed, he would check on me with a cold nose and a paw on my shoulder. I would argue that it was too early, still dark out. I never won that argument. While I dressed he would stretch and roll around on the bed, legs in the air.
As soon as I made a move for the stairs, he would race me to the bottom. I just had to be sure to be out of the way. He'd get a drink of water, checking both his bowls and a quick look at his food bowl to see if any food had appeared overnight. (Sometimes I would leave a treat when he wasn't looking to surprise him).
I'd grab the house key and we'd set off for a morning walk. We mostly walked the same route, with small variations. It always took 30 minutes - unless the morning was nice and I wasn't going to work - then we'd walk further and longer. He'd sniff, do his business, try to pick up things that looked edible, keep an eye out for others walking in the pre-dawn hour. Sometimes we'd see joggers, or other dog walkers, he was always keen on other dogs. Sometimes a solitary man would pass, heading to work - those he alerted on - ever protective. The best fun was when we saw the wild things, heading home after their night out, a fox, a coyote, sometimes a raccoon or possum. Wild creatures he particularly wanted to chase - his hound dog genes rising up.
He'd get more serious as we turned our corners & headed for home. He knew food was the next order of business.
We'd get in the house, I'd pour his kibble into his bowl and Bear, however hungry he was or how much he was drooling, would sit on the rug by the kitchen door until I said 'ok.' Then he'd charge his bowl, eating every bit and licking the bowl a few times to make sure he'd gotten every morsel. He'd follow by drinking half the water in his bowl and burping. I'd make coffee, and if there was time, a quick cuddle on the sofa before I headed up to dress for work. He'd follow me upstairs and lay on the rug outside the bathroom door for a short nap while I showered & dressed.
There would be one more race down the stairs and a run in the back yard before I left for work. He'd get a cookie as Ieft, and I'd tell him, "be a good boy, I'll see you tonight."
Yesterday was different. We got up early, I had to wake him. I lifted him off the bed, and helped him walk downstairs. We went for a short, slow walk. Home, I fed him a warmed up McDonald's hamburger - his appetite had dimmed weeks ago. We cuddled on the sofa. Instead of going to work, we both got in the car, and I drove him to the vet. I held him, telling him it was 'ok' (or maybe I was telling me). He drew a breath, then one more, then he was gone. Just like that.
I hugged him, and said "be a good boy, I'll see you soon."
