I can hear it, but I am hoping that if I ignore it, it will go away.
I close my eyes tighter and push myself further down onto the bed, hoping to disappear into it.
I pull the satiny sheets over my head, trying again to disappear.
I groan. It’s not going to give up.
I am pissed.
I whip the sheets off and move up from my waist, slowly, sitting up.
It gets deeper, louder and closer in frequency.
“Okay, Abbey,” I growl. “Let’s go. Get Harley.”
She bounces around like a Mexican Jumping Bean, excited. She tries to wake up her brother, but he imitates my prior attempt to ignore it, and succeeds.
I head down the stairs. She stays at the top. Just sitting there, staring at me.
“C’mon Abbey!” I bark. She runs down the stairs, wagging her tail. She comes to me and I put on her leash. We go out front.
She stands on the sidewalk, looking around. She sits.
“Abbey!” I hiss. “You wanted to come out here, not me. Go potty.”
“Go potty… Go potty… Go potty… Go potty…” I continuously repeat through my crusty eyes and gravely voice, still asleep.
This damn dog.
After what feels like forever, she finally does the splits on the grass and relieves herself. We go back in, I unhook her leash, and I head upstairs, not giving her a treat.
I stumble back to bed, lay down and close my eyes, willing myself back to sleep.
It’s too late. I am up.
Abbey, on the other hand, has snuggled into the comforter and is quickly back asleep.