Middle-of-The-Night Madness

Or just plain mad. After so many after-midnights of getting up to let Savannah walk in the yard to use the grass, and then preparing for our Halloween party on Saturday and then cleaning up afterwards, I was just totally exhausted last night when I got into bed.

All that being said, I wasn't too pleased with myself earlier this morning. Savannah woke me up twice during the night, at 1:45 and at 3:45. Both times, she barked just once or twice and she was near the bottom of the back stairs in the kitchen. I took her outside both times, thinking she had to pee... but each time, all she did was walk around the grass a little bit and pick up a few leaves, then she stood there looking up at the stars (quite pretty last night, actually), and then she just became motionless on the lawn as she listened to the coyotes howling in the woods during the second visit out to the grass. I lost count of how many times I walked up and down our driveway so she could 'use the grass' on either side of the concrete.

And there I was, with my brand new flash-light that's much brighter than the old one, and with each minute that Savannah did not squat down in that grass, my patience was getting to the breaking point and I would have been perfectly happy to toss that flash-light out into the woods with the coyotes.  It was at the moment when Savannah jumped up to catch a moth in her mouth that I drew the puppy line. I yanked that leash of hers and stormed back into the house... do not pass Go, do not collect 200 dog biscuits, go straight to jail, you crazy night-loving puppy.

When I got Savannah into the kitchen, I practically ripped that leash off of her, grabbed her by that pretty blue collar and hissed like a snake into her ear: "Do not EVER wake me up in the middle of the night again unless there are zombies on the porch wanting to steal that blue monkey of yours." Savannah didn't blink and neither did I. When I let go of her collar, I threw my jacket onto a chair and up the stairs I went. I was so mad with that puppy that I could have just screamed at her till my throat was hoarse. (Problem solving at its best. Not.)

I got back upstairs in bed and promised myself that there would be no more middle-of-the-freaking-night trips out into the grass from now on.  To cement that promise, when I got downstairs this morning, Savannah was in her bed and didn't even get up out of it when I walked into the breakfast room. Clearly, she remembered my outburst from 4:00 in the morning. Rather than rushing outside with Savannah, I just let her wait.  I fed Sweet Pea and cleaned his litter box, then went out to the garage and let Gatsby out, then fed Mickey and and cleaned the litter boxes in the garage... and then after letting Mickey out into the yard, I came back inside and took Savannah for her walk.

Up the road we went, and it surprised the heck out of me that Savannah did not crouch down to pee until we had gone all the way up our hill and turned left going towards Judy and Bella's driveway. All those hours, and Savannah's puppy-bladder had been just fine. Surely, this six-and-a-half-month-old puppy can make it through the night now without having to go outside at three o'clock in the morning to count the stars and listen to the coyotes.

One thing, though, that broke my heart and brought me back to a sane level of patience this morning: when I walked down the back stairs and into the kitchen at 7:15, there on the second step from the bottom was Savannah's blue monkey, face up and staring right at me with lifeless eyes. That puppy apparently left it there for me at some point after I had grabbed her by the collar and hissed in her ear and then went up those same stairs at 4:00 this morning.  Seeing Savannah's monkey on that step just deflated me and I could have cried.