Furry alarm clocks

I am NOT a morning person!

Since J gets up early to get to work, breakfast for the pups is up to me. And they know it.

Bolo: I think she's waking up. 

Bolo: I think she's waking up. 

Ishka: Shhh, the trick is to wake her gently.

Ishka: Shhh, the trick is to wake her gently.

Ishka: We're so pretty, we deserve lots of breakfast!

Ishka: We're so pretty, we deserve lots of breakfast!

I regularly wake up to a row of little faces...

And if I'm silly enough to sleep with an arm or hand hanging over the edge of the bed, they're kind enough to "wash" it thoroughly for me.

Once we're all up, the pups get into their crates, with great enthusiasm, because they know that food is coming their way.

Frankie even does spins inside his crate every time a cup of kibble gets picked up.

mmm, the meal was adequate, but the service around here is terrible. 
mmm, the meal was adequate, but the service around here is terrible. 

I have never lived with crate-trained dogs before. At J's old place, the crates were stacked out the back and were the part of the house that smelt most like dog. And they look pretty much like cages.

When we were discussing how to set up the new house, J really had to talk fast to get me to agree to put these things inside. The major reason I agreed was that it ensures no arguments over whose bowl is whose.

(And they now get aired/cleaned/vaccuumed and deodorised regularly.

... Or, I've gotten used to the smell and don't notice.... oh dear!)

And actually, the dogs do love them. Once they've rousted ME out of bed and gotten their food, they are in nooooooo hurry to get going again.

Yeah, we know the doors are open, but we can't be bothered getting up...

Yeah, we know the doors are open, but we can't be bothered getting up...

Of course, like all dogs, they are very fond of sleeping and will do it anywhere...

on beds...                                                                                      ... on window sills....

Synchronised sleeping.                                                               Frankie was looking out the window when he dozed off, on Bolo.

... sun baking on the deck ...                                                             .... relaxing in the garden...
(I thought you guys were meant to be Arctic breeds?)

... and on the kitchen floor...

as close to the food as possible.


Please feed the poor cripple dogs! We ain't got no legs!

Please feed the poor cripple dogs! We ain't got no legs!