I can't remember the last time I've awoke and not had an animal greeting me. There's something about a wagging tail or a loud purr to let you know that the morning is something special. Here are these creatures who are happy to see you. Now, part of their motivation is that they lack thumbs and are excited about the kibble hitting the bottom of the food bowl, but I can't really blame them; breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right? I've moved a lot lately and we have another big move coming, but regardless of where I am there is always a fuzzy saying "good morning."
Here at my parents', for example, Glacier and Jetta take turns being the first to wake me up. Some mornings I am brought back from Dream Land by Jetta head butting the door, demanding to come in. Other mornings, the door isn't shut tightly and in typical Jetta fashion, she barges in, leaps on the bed, stamps around a bit and then settles on my feet. If Jetta hasn't managed to rouse me Glacier makes a go of it. He gets up on the bed, lies on his back with all four paws in the air, rolls around snorting and shoving me with his gigantic head. Between the snuffing, head butting and stamping, one of them gets me motivated enough to get up.
Once up, I not only have two hungry Labradors to contend with, but two purring, meowing, ankle side swiping tabby cats. Glacier and Jetta prance around, their claws clicking on the floor, Loki the male cat, nearly tripping me. Sisu usually looks on from a distance, probably concerned that her beautiful fur will be mussed by the herd of hungry hippos.
We make it to the storage tub where the food is stashed and both Glacier and Jetta are asked and expected to wait in a "sit stay" while I dish out their respective servings. While they are scarfing their kibble, I get a scoop of cat food and go to the front window sill where the two cats' bowls are waiting empty. Loki jumps up on the sill ahead of me and has his head so far in the dish I can hardly dump his portion out. Sisu is much more dignified and usually waits for me to turn away. Then she hops up with her little "Prrrr" noise, that sounds like something between a meow, purr and singing. After everyone's appetites are satisfied, each dog takes a turn going out and drinking water and I make myself breakfast and coffee between the opening and closing of the back door and filling and refilling of the water bowl. It's chaotic for about twenty minutes, but then everyone settles in and it's calm and relaxing. I'll drink my coffee watching TV or reading blogs and there will be at least three fuzzies squishing me on the couch and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Every animal I ever had has made mornings the things I love. Sasha, my first pet dog, would bound about and knock me over with kisses and huge paws. He was a ninety pound yellow lab and I was a tiny six year old. Until Flash, a dog I adopted for my parents after Sasha's trip to the Rainbow Bridge, learned how to go outside, every morning you would step in a puddle of pee at the back door. She always made it that far and then just couldn't hold it anymore. She'd look up at you like,"Oh no. Woops, but I still love you." And then she'd try to wash your face while you mopped it up. Jetta's always been the stamper and Kyo used to wake me up by being shifty and moanie in his crate. He was incredibly exuberant once let out because he knew it was walk time. Each Dachshund greeted the morning in his or her own way too. Once we had all three it usually consisted of me running down the stairs with one on a leash and one in each arm to make sure they made it outside to do their business. Otherwise, one would escape me and go off in a corner and "potty." Then they'd run around like crazy fools once back inside and hop about like maniacs until I had breakfast served for them. After the crazy play session and breakfast, they would always go back to sleep for a few hours. Despite Roscoe not being technically my dog, seeing how he is Mr. K's guide dog, he still is a huge part of mornings. He yawns noisily and follows me around relentlessly until his breakfast is put down for him. He would hop around and talk to me and would only sit still quivering when the "food closet" was opened and he was asked to "sit" and "stay."
Mornings are meant to be enjoyed with wet noses, wagging tails and insistent ankle weaving. How can you not like mornings when you have such enthusiastic greetings, even if they are food motivated?