Dog love 6

I wake to my little dog vigorously wagging her tail and trying to reach my arm with her wet nose.

It is 3 am.  I realize through sleepy haze that she needs to go outside to do her business. Urgently.  I stumble out of bed and house and then stand under moonlight while she frantically paces the yard, desperate to find the perfect spot.

We do this again at 4 am and 5 am. And once again before I go to work.  At my desk, I am grateful for coffee.  Big steamy cups of it that I inhale all day long through giant yawns.

I ponder whether this is what it means to be “dog tired” – but then I figure that maybe only my dog must be this nutty about her biological functions.

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