On September 24, Ollie turned two. In human years, that makes him about the same age as our 7th grade daughter. Thankfully, he doesn't behave like an adolescent. The little guy still has a lot of energy - he is a Cairn Terrier - but in general he minds his P's and Q's.
This morning we rolled out well before dawn to get the coed off to the airport for her return flight to college after a super short fall break. I'm the sort that can never fall back to sleep once I'm up, and so I decided to get a few things done at 5:00 am this morning after the husband and daughter hit the road in order for her to catch her plane. The first thing I did was load the dishwasher. Then I started on the pile of dirty clothes in front of the washing machine. Next, I sat down with my current seating charts and created new ones for the second nine weeks that kicks off tomorrow at school. I rearranged student desks Friday after dismissal, so it's fruit basket turnover at the start of every class tomorrow.
About the time the sun hit the horizon, I bathed the dog after I fed him and took him out for a little walk to take care of business. He's tolerant of a bath. In typical canine fashion, it's the bit after he's clean that is a real show.
It's obviously a desperate situation. Must.remove.clean.smell. No matter how much he begs, I don't let him go outside off leash all day because that's just inviting a roll in the grass and dirt that will undo all of the shampoo applying, scrubbing, rinsing, drying and brushing I just accomplished. I'm a pro at ignoring his pleading looks while he longingly gazes out the back door.