Something my human wrote about me...

Chris and I have this theory about how dogs tell time- they don't. We think that 15 minutes is about the same as 15 hours to a dog (provided you take them to the bathroom in that span). Dogs seem to forget that you are exactly where they left you ten minutes ago. They often come back to you to make sure you're right where they left you. Sometimes it's ten minutes, sometimes five minutes and other times it is about three hours. In dog time things are forgotten and then re-learned. This happens every day in our house. Every day except Sundays. I think that Parker knows the time on Sundays.

On Sundays I am usually up by about 8:00 am. I get up, shuffle to the bathroom, shuffle out to the kitchen. I open the fridge, assess if enough milk is there for breakfast. I take Parker for the morning walkies (five or so minutes) and we load up into the car to run one small errand. Today is was to return the movie "Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle" (which was stupid, yet a bit smart, and funny as all get out). From there we come home, he gets food, I get food and we both lay down (he on his bed and me on the couch). I watch CBS Sunday Morning and read. After that we do a few things and Parker always follows me around. Somewhere in there Chris gets up and is greeted as if he has been missing for years. Parker is just that kind of dog. From the time Chris gets up, Parker splits his time laying in the computer room and coming out into the living room (where I have been reading) to make sure we are still there. A lot of times I get this excited greeting, as if I may have been gone. It's as if he doesn't recall that I haven't moved from the couch at all. Dogs are funny that way.

Right now is the time when I start to move around, abandon the book (Lance Armstrong's first autobiography title It's Not About the Bike), and start on the next phase of the day: Parker time. I think he knows this. He has been following me around like a heat seeking missile. The dog has no concept of time on any other day, but Sundays are his special day. Sunday is the day I take him to the dog park. It's cold out today (by North Carolina standards) so I have been putting it off a little. We normally arrive there between 12 and 12:30. This means that I get there in enough time for things to warm up (as far as there being more than just two other dogs) and Parker's favorite dogs, Ben and Chloe, are usually there.

What's funny to me is that, today, Parker got pesky about the time earlier than normal. I think it was because I got off the couch from reading earlier than normal. Measurement in dog time seems to be fluid. Even as I type this, he is over by Chris' chair grunting as he stretches out. It's as if he is registering his complaint that I am not yet ready to take him out there. In real time I know I still have about 15 minutes left in order to organize myself into warmer clothing and locate my hat and gloves. Measurement in dog time, however, consists of meals and walks and pets and pats. Sundays are special and sacred to him. I am convinced that this dog can tell time on Sundays.