Three thirty in the morning. Somewhere, out there in the world of work, a driver is heading down the road perhaps late, worrying about a deer jumping in front of him. On that same road, perhaps, there’s work being done that can only be done at night, and there’s an inspector looking at his cell phone, wondering if the end of the shift will ever come. And somewhere, in my bedroom, is Lilith Anne, who decides that three thirty is the time to go out.
She plods to the backdoor, heavy footed with nails on the wooden floor, making sounds that all dogs in the house can hear, but I tell her no, and she comes back into the bedroom, I hear the sound of Lilith laying down again, and there is a sense of peace.
Then another sound rips asunder the still morning. It is a long, loud, ninth grade epic fart, that lasts so long, I fear Lilith might be deflating entirely. Or worst, having the largest bowel movement in canine history.
Alexa turn the light on, now, let there be light, and illumination shows no mess on the floor, but Lilith is already heading for the door. I let all four dogs out, because if I get up everyone else gets up. Wrex, speedy and motivated, fires out of the door at top speed, Lilith is next, with Budlore pushing ahead of Jessica.
Wrex has found an armadillo, and the chase, with all the excitement and noise that comes with it ensues. They trap the poor creature under the patio, with much growling, snarling, and drama. But wait, he’s escaped, he bursts into the open and heads towards the fence! Wrex backtracks, goes over the top of the patio, but Jessica is already worming her way under, and they collide as Wrex leaps off the patio and slams into Jessica just as she breaks into the open.
The armadillo zigs, zags, and because Budlore is more of a brawler than a boxer, he misses the last chance to catch the armadillo, and it goes through the fence and escapes.
Lilith, who is old and cannot chase very well at all, is reminded by her body what she came here for, and I return to go back inside she squats in a part of the yard, far from the backdoor. That is the only bright spot in this dark night.
At ten-minute intervals, the dogs return to the house and are fed.
At four something, I go back to bed.
At five, Wrex wants back out, because he thinks he heard something.
It is now six, and this is what I am doing instead of just starting my day.
Enjoy.
Take Care,
Mike
Mike writes regularly at his site: The Hickory Head Hermit.
Opinions expressed in this article are not necessarily those of the management of this site.
Nice to read about someone else’s late night/early morning travails. I’m currently on night three in the hospital dealing with the first of hopefully just four rounds of chemo. I knew it would be an ordeal, but it’s been an ordeal in different ways than I anticipated.
I almost always enjoy your storytelling here, and this happened to be the perfect story for me tonight. I miss my willful pair of German shepherds right now.
Those poor puppies can’t get a good nights sleep because of all the commotion you cause.
Turning on lights and forcing them out in the middle of the cold dark night to face wild animals. Tsk tsk
Bruce, if some god doesn’t strike you dead for that comment that’s evidence none of them exists.
Bruce: Mike lives in Georgia–at this time of year, there is not such thing as a cold night.
Mike: at least you did not have to get up and go to work–at least not to a job.
Tim, back when I had a real hunter in the house with me, nights were a lot more exciting. And it mattered not at all if I had to go to work.
Tim, I thought dark and stormy night was a little too theatrical. All nights feel cold when dragged out of a warm snuggly bed and thrown to the wild Armadillos with hairy knuckles and bloodshot eyes.
Bruce, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Cheryl, wow, that is a hell of a lot worse than armadillos. You got armadillos where you live?
It could be worse, they could corner a skunk.
Mutt Mouth, when that day arrives, trust me, everyone will read about it!
We have armadillos here, however, we get more possum traffic around here. Chaos will chase them, but once she has them cornered, she looks at me to handle the situation. I generally try to trap and release. I don’t mind them except that they feel as if they should noisily reside under my house. When they do that- no one sleeps. No thank you, I need my 6 hours or whatever I manage to get. I usually try to take them out by the lake.
Chick, I’m not sure what would happened to an animal trapped in a cage unless I got there first. If I did not…
We are their whole world, and they are only with us for a very short time. My Sas love the cold air and would sleep outside all year long if we let her. Frank is a pansy, afraid of falling leaves and snow. They make my heart so happy.
Ickity, this is true. What would we do without them?