Around 4am every morning when I hear the thumping of running paws on the kitchen floor, through the utility room and finally with a bounce on the bed and his front paws poking me, I know that my fuzzy alarm clock has arrived!
Now that he’s grown up and brave and no longer needs to sleep on the bed, he still feels that it’s his job to wake me up. How in the heck he knows that it’s four o’clock is beyond me, but he seldom misses by more than a few minutes. He sleeps in the living room now, usually with his wooby blanket, (He’s not that grown up!) like a little kid, with his toys scattered all around. (They’re fun to step on in the middle of the night, especially the ones that emit a loud squeak!)
I suppose, as he gets older he’ll stop waking me up every morning, and I have to admit when he does stop, I’ll miss it.
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