I have a new favourite time of day, Reader. Every morning, Panda wakes me up at around 5 am by the simple expedient of jumping up on the bed and sitting on my face. I take him out, bleary eyed and shuffling while he prances about, offensively cheerful. After we come back in, I collapse back on my bed, which he takes as a signal for commencing round two. He proceeds to chew on my hair till I cover my head with a blanket. He then chews the blanket. When he tires of it, he sniffs around the room, looking for other things to chew. He has little or no discretion when making his selection, one day it's my handbag, the next it's my cellphone and every so often, it's my computer's power cord. Semi-comatose though I am, my subconscious wakes me as soon as it realises he's being too silent. Yes Reader, I'm awakened by silence.
By 6 am I'm wide awake and it's light out. We run out of the house together, scaring squirrels and mynahs. I draw my energy from him; when he's so impossibly cheerful about being outside at dawn, some of it rubs off. After we've expended out initial energy, we meander. Panda sniffs delicately at flowers, which sight amuses me endlessly. I address my remarks on the morning and any minor epiphanies I have to him. He makes for a very good listener. We meet other people walking dogs whom Panda proceeds to jump at them, his whole body quivering with friendliness. After exchanging pleasantries we walk on, and Panda keeps looking back till he gets his leash tangled with my legs.
Our walk lasts for an hour, Reader, and it puts me in a good mood all day long. I think of all the silly things he did every once in awhile during my day, and smile.