I awoke with an audible gasp, the sheets were tangled around my legs and I found myself teetering on the edge of my bed. I lost my balance, and fell to the floor, hitting my head on the nightstand as I did so. "God!" I exclaimed, rolling onto my back and staring up at the ceiling and my black lab, Gwen, who had got up on the bed and was now looking down at me. "Why didn't you wake me?" I asked her as my alarm clock began to blare. She tilted her head to the side, in the funny way that some dogs do and whined, as if to say, "Like I honestly care if you're late for work, Greg."
I lay there for a moment, letting the dizziness wear itself out; the alarm was still blaring. Gwen, the clever being she is, reached out and put her paw on the snooze button. I smiled, "Now if I could just teach you how to make me breakfast." She hopped down from my bed and licked my face, reminding me that I needed to shave. "Yeah, yeah," I mumbled, pulling myself up off the floor.
I stood, groaning in protest as my head swam. I took a deep breath and blew it out in an annoyed manner; this sent my shaggy hair out of my eyes. I started to leave the bedroom to go shower when Gwen stepped in front of me and stopped. I was still half-asleep and wasn't paying that much attention, which was exactly what she had intended. I tripped over her and went sprawling onto the floor in front of my dresser. "OW!" I cried, rolling over onto my back for the second time in two minutes, "What did you do that for?"
Gwen minced over to me and put a front paw on my chest, I swear, if she could have raised an eyebrow at me, she would have. "What?" I asked, indignantly, sometimes my dog could get this attitude just like my mom, you know? "Do it my way or else" kinda deal. "What did I forget now?" I asked, letting my head flop back onto the floor. This dog was nuts, she reminded me to do my chores, can you believe that? She usually tripped me in the mornings if I forgot to do something the night before.
And if it was something really major, like forgetting to feed her when I was dead tired, I usually wound up with ninety-dollar Sketchers torn to shreds waiting for me on the kitchen floor. Needless to say, I always leave two bowls of food out for her and ALWAYS remember to fill them. Thankfully, though, this time I did not forget to feed Gwen. I sat up and she started pawing the cuff of the black sweat pants I wore to bed. "What?" I asked again, as if I were expecting her to reply to me, "Um, what?"
This time, she got a hold of the hem of the Metallica-in-concert 1992 t-shirt that I wore to bed with the sweats, she began to tug. "Hey! Hey, don't do that! I don't tear up your stuff, do I?" My dad thinks I'm nuts because I talk to my dog like I would talk to, oh, say, a girlfriend. But believe me, Gwen always reminds me to do stuff. Like pay my bills.
(This means she picks up the mail from where it gathers on the floor in front of the door and puts it in her dog dish, when I go to feed her, I pick it up and say, "Oh, what's this?" Thus reminding myself that I need to pay my phone bill. I can't name one girlfriend who's ever done that for me!) "Laundry!" I mumbled, slapping my forehead, then wincing and rubbing it instead, "Thanks, girl." I patted her on the head, mussing her ears.
I stood up to get my day started, but Gwen reminded me of yet another chore. She had grabbed the blanket from my bed and dragged it after me. I turned around, "Now what? I'm late for work!" That's when I realized she wanted me to make the bed. "Damn dog," I mumbled as I pulled the sheets up to the head of the bed, "Stupid parents, insisting I need an animal… stupid Sara for going pet shopping with me…"
I wonder if Gwen had heard me, because when I was once again on my way to the bathroom, she stopped in front of me and barked with enjoyment as she heard my resounding, "DAMMIT!"