2/22/2011 - at the foot of routine. . .

All of my life, I have worshipped helplessly at the foot of routine.  I thrive on it, need it like a security blanket.  When I went on a week-long vacation to Montreal a few years ago, I went so far as to bring my own box of bran flakes with me so I would not have to deviate from my usual breakfast fare.  I like the expected.

So this new puppy's presence in our lives holds up a huge middle finger to that which I hold dear.  The very first night (tentatively-named) Octus slept with us, I felt Sam shuffling in bed to get up when it was still dark outside.  I thought it might have been 5:00, which is when Sam normally gets up during the week.  Then I heard the light jingle of Octus' dog tag against his collar, and finally, Sam's announcement: "He pooped!"

It was 2:00 AM.

Not only did Octus poop, but he expressed the stress he endured all day due to his new environment by smearing the puddle of poop all over his sides, crate, and bed.  I wanted to get angry, but really, what was the use?  He laid in his crate looking up at us as we desperately tried to contain the mess, and I think we three all knew that he was off the hook, so far away from the hook that the incident may very well had never happened. 

So there we were, cleaning on hands and knees at two in the morning, and all I could think to myself was that just a day ago, 24 little hours, I was firmly tucked in bed, sound asleep and subconsciously reveling in the three-day weekend that unrolled before me.  At the very least, I would not be faced with an odor that, for lack of a better description, assailed me.  Instead, there it was, and there we were.

This morning, I heard Sam shuffling, the playful jingling of Octus' collar, the sound of his nails as he clips across the hardwood floors.  Must be 2:00 AM.  I waited for the announcement.

Nothing.

When I put on my glasses, I saw that Sam had Octus in his arms, ready to take him outside to do his business.  Now, barring the night before, I don't remember the last time I woke up, and stayed up, at 2:00 AM, but I'm certain that it was not to stand on the wintry sidewalk, praising a puppy for peeing outside (and on his own foot).  Yet there I was this morning, beaming with pride that Octus woke up in order to pee. 

So I think that old routine of mine, the soundless sleeping through the night, is effectively defunct for now.  I spent a few sleepy minutes saying goodbye to it this morning as I waited for my snooze alarm to go off.

But already, I see a new routine emerging.  When Sam and I walked to Trader Joe's yesterday to get dinner and give Octus an opportunity to be at the house by himself, all I wanted to do was go home to him and see his cute little face.  I looked forward to seeing him all day today while I was at work, envying Sam's flexible work schedule that allows him to go home for lunch.  As I work on this post, I am excited about going back downstairs and having him trot over to the bottom of the staircase and greet me.  Even this morning, bleary-eyed from somnus interruptus (I think it helps ease the fatigue if you call it by some possibly made-up Latin term), I got out of bed because I wanted to be a part of Sam and Octus' playtime, see them bounding around in the kitchen before I had to leave for the gym.

Even Sam, whose first instinct when he gets downstairs in the morning is to turn on the TV and keep it on for as long as he is within earshot, kept the TV silent and played with Octus for the better part of the hour while I got ready.

  

We are establishing a new routine for Octus so that he will be on the right path to a healthy and happy puppyhood.  He, in turn, seems to be working on a new routine for us as well.

And here's one-half of my two favorite boys sleeping in front of the TV.  You can also see the foot of the other half by Octus' head.