My thoughts have turned towards coffee. It’s a dark morning, clouded over. The lateness of the daylight still messes with me.
I wait for first light to turn the coffee maker on. Time to throw on some trousers and a wooly sweater before braving the outside to let the ducks out. They know the sounds. The minute I turn on the outside tap to fill their water canister Maggie lets me know she is glad to hear me. (And, please let me out now.) Sometimes Pumpkin or Pi join in the morning Maggie chorus.
Water bowls duly filled, fresh food and lettuce down, the mad rush begins as I open their bedroom door. Well, it has been 12 hours since they last ate! Goodness, you would think they were starving. Then it’s a quick run, hop, flight out the barn door for a little wing stretch before settling down to the serious activity of worm hunting. I leave them to it.
Back to my coffee! But first, the second morning ritual must take place. Whilst letting out the ducks, Chewie takes the opportunity to leave his bed and take over my spot in ours. Every day I come back in to be confronted by puppy dog eyes, saying ‘who me?’. And every morning, I have to hoick him down and to the middle of the bed.
As a sausage dog you would think he would fit nicely, snuggled between Pumpjack and I. But no, he likes to lie horizontal between us, rather than vertical. And he is a lump. Standard size dachshunds are all muscle, 16kg (35lbs) of it in Chewie’s case. So each morning we play the game of who will be beta in this pack and have out wrestling match for our places.
Finally able to get back under the warm covers, Chewie curled up by my knees, I can pour my cup of coffee. Ahhh… Cup warming my hands, scent flowing up my nostrils, I can start to plan what I wish to write about today.