The boys wake up at about 6:15 a.m. when the coffee maker goes on and I plod sleepily down the stairs. Sometimes they are waiting for me after the pre-dawn wrestling match. Other days, they are sprawled amongst their beds and cushions and lazily open an eye to see who disturbs them. When they realize it's just me, they curl back up and continue snoozing. I usually try to get them to go outside, but more often than not they hear the word "outside" and go back to sleep. Some days my nagging and cajoling actually inspires them to rise, saunter slowly to the door, stick their nose out, sniff and then decide they don't feel like it and trot back in.
After I'm dressed, I come back down and my husband and I meet for our morning coffee. By this time, the boys are up and they finally will go outside, although very unwillingly some days. Then they come in to get their treat for being good and proceed to wrestle, chase each other around the coffee table and generally cause mayhem.
If my husband and I are both going to work at the same time, the boys will flop in front of the door with a heavy sigh, put their faces between their paws and stare at us as if to say "where are you going??". I feel so guilty!!! But most days, since my husband works shifts, he remains at home and I leave. Then the boys don't care...dad's at home!
Late morning and most of the afternoon is nap time. Lunch is taken between naps so by the time I get home from work, the boys are raring to go. Usually they are taken for a walk at this point, weather permitting. The jingle of the harnesses and the word "walk" is enough to send them into a tizzy, dancing around and jockeying for position in front of me to see who gets their harness on first.
After the walk, they watch us cook supper, inspect the floor for any morsels that may have fallen from the counter, and wait for us to eat because they know their food is coming too.
Evenings start off quiet...it's a time for gnawing on bones or chewies until about 8:00...then all hell breaks loose and it's time for the wild boys. They chase each other, bark up a storm, wrestle, fight over toys and argue. Yes...they "argue". The oldest starts barking at the youngest and he responds with a high pitched yipping sound. When the "fighting" gets more intense, they are two inches from each other's faces, the older one's bark getting deeper and the younger one's yip getting higher and becoming more of a constant stream of squeaks. Yet they are not touching each other...they are just arguing! In the end, usually when the youngest lies on his back, the older one will come over, clean his face and then proceed to try and clean my face and my husband's. If we are laying on the couch it's easy for him. If we are sitting up it's more difficult as he either tries to climb up our chests or, when he's feeling particularly determined, he'll crawl up to the back of the couch, walk along it till he reaches one of us, step down to our shoulder, and lean around to lick our face. He also cleans our hands, his brother's paws and then his own paws. (He's kind of a fanatic about clean paws) And that's the routine...every night...the cleaning ritual. When that's done, the oldest one checks to make sure all the toys are together, gets the "toy du jour" (which either the yellow fuzzy dog or the purple fuzzy dog) and trots over to his bed for a nice sleep with his fuzzy friend. His brother usually joins him and the two snuggle together, ready for another tough day.