The sun is rising through dewy windows and the darkness is fading. Birds start to sing in the new day and in the distance aeroplanes line up for landing at the airport. It is the end of curfew. But does the slow and smelly biped wake up? No, he never does until I disturb him from snoring slumber. He can sleep through anything and it’s always up to me to wake him up in time for breakfast and bladder emptying. Do you think he is ever grateful for my services? No, of course not.

I manage to lick him awake and get him downstairs but then have to remind him, through a series of sharp yelps, to let me outside so I can relieve myself. He doesn’t have to be reminded about his own bladder (it’s alright for him, he’s allowed to do it in the house) but he does have to be reminded about mine lest I commit that most odious of crimes- pissing in the house.

Next he goes and splashes around in the cold wet room (the same one where he pisses and where I swear there is another dog staring back at me every time I go in there) like he does every day. He comes out smelling like a flowery garden (yuck) but I haven’t the heart to tell him that it doesn’t really mask his hairy monkey smell, the one he is so obviously trying to camouflage (personally I’m quite fond of his natural pungent scent, especially those arm pits of his. Phew! ).

Soon he will leave me at home alone for a few minutes… or is it hours? I don’t really know because I mooch around the house and take a few naps, dreaming of how much fun it would be to own a flock of sheep.

When he returns I put on a big show of greeting him to make him feel needed and loved. I know he likes that. Then of course I need to remind him about my needs such as food, walks and entertainment. I even have to remind him to pat me occasionally as a form of tribute. Finally, I have to remind him when it is time to go to bed. Honestly, I don’t know what he’d do without me.