Spilled Milk

My dog, Bunker, has a great many bad habits. He licks everything, sheds, bothers and howls. We have lived with him long enough that the first three don't irritate us too much anymore. They have become part of his personality - sort of like the habits of people that endear them to us. It is the last problem that has only cropped up recently that holds a special place in my heart and makes me want to boot him to the outdoors. Apparently, he dreams and the wild dog in him calls to his inmost being to make him do this. -- Well on with the story...

Well almost. I actually had two beginnings to this tale and couldn't make up my mind which to include, so I get to put them both in. Thus...

I have a wonderful way to wake up. We purchased a CD/Radio/Alarm Clock some time ago. I have found that the soft noises of the cd spinning up will often make me wake up. If not, then a soft melody will wind its way into my head for five minutes. The songs that follow get progressively louder and stronger in beat. It is rare that I make it past the first few seconds of the second song before it rouses me to turn it off. This is about as pleasant as I can get things unless I get to just wake up on my own. Deven, however, uses the alarm. It at least does start softly and slowly gets to a racous noise. I usually can ignore this since my mind knows it is not my alarm. With Deven gone and the first beginning to the story, you can see where this is going...almost. -- Well on with the story...

Deven's alarm goes off at 6:00. I quickly lurch out of bed and shut the, by this time, racous noise off. My alarm is set for 6:30. However, at 6:27 I hear a wolf dog descending upon the house with a howl to wake the dead. It does and I leap out of bed, throw the door open and bark, "BUNKER!!!". At this same moment, I hear an answering call to the wolf's adopted family member, "WAAAA, WAAA, WAAA!!!". After threatening the dog to keep quiet, I try to make up a bottle. Pleasantly, I realize that the baby has managed to go back to sleep. I proceed to get myself ready as quickly as possible know that she will not stay that way. Sure enough, she awakes again at 7:00. I retrieve my poor sleepy baby and attempt to feed her some peaches. After eating a couple, she proceeds to put her bottle of milk to her mouth and begins to cry. I notice that the cold milk is streaming out the cap, down her arm onto her leg. I hurrily pick her up and change her and notice it is time to go. I make up a second bottle for the road; and we make our way to the car. I manage to bump her head on the car on the way in but give her a bottle to settle her down. A little down the road, I notice that this bottle also had started to spring a leak sending more cold milk down her chin onto her poor little body. This was once again a time to cry over spilled milk.