Laika loved to sleep. As she got older, it was one of her favorite pastimes. However, since the world revolved around her, when she woke up in the morning, everyone else had to wake up, too. Since I was usually the only one around, that meant she could focus her efforts solely on getting me out of bed. Sometimes she was desperate to go out (due to medication side-effects), but most of the time it was because she was hungry. Because, well, she was hungry almost all of the time!
As a pup, she had some tried and true methods of trying to wake me. These included jumping on the bed and licking my face, laying with all of her force through her pointy elbows directly on my chest, howling like a fiend to tell me that it was breakfast time, and passively whacking her tail off of things around the room to produce a loud drumming. Even if I tried to hide under the covers, she would dig her way under and resume her wake-up call, body and tail wiggling all the time as if we were playing a game. It was a nice way to start the day, actually...even in the pre-5 am dawn, as she learned that breakfast was given after I was roused; so, the earlier, the better (for her).
This carried on for a few years, until she learned a more sinister way to wake me up: by farting pretty much directly in my face and then running away to watch my reaction from across the room. I am not sure where she learned to do this, but it was a very effective method to make sure that I vacated my warm bed immediately, even on the coldest of days. If you have not been woken-up by a stinky trumpet blast from the business-end of a dog at near point blank range, I would like to officially state that it is not really a fun way to start the day. It was all in good fun for Laika, though, as she would eagerly observe my response with a gleam in her eye and a tail wag that would crescendo as smelled the wake-up call and quickly got up to give her breakfast. As usual, as soon as I acknowledged what she had done, so exuded immense pride and performed a sort of victory parade around my room. (As the younger brother of an infamous farter, this type of olfactory abuse was nothing new to me, sadly.)
Although she mixed-in the sort-of-good with the bad, the "rude awakening" as I will call it was sometimes her first line method, but very often her back-up for when I didn't wake up quick enough for her liking. Granted, I am vegan and eat a lot of beans, so Laika did have to put up with my endless exhaust. But, I have never once weaponized my flatulence as a means of achieving my goals with her. Plus, it is my understanding that dogs love stinky things. So, in some ways Laika might have been happy in the house of a farter such as myself...but I digress.
Since these stories have highlighted Laika's fantastic, gaseous qualities, it might be a good time to explore the other end in an attempt to explain how she ended up this way. It might have been the way that she ate, but we'll have to wait until tomorrow!
View from the business-end.
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