Ollie’s Sixteenth Week: Nighttime Is the Sweet Time

It was during the beginning of my fourth month that James finally realized that he could get some sleep. Of course, he wasn’t yet able to sleep through the night, as I needed to go outside every four hours – or so he thought. As such, James would put me in my crate at ten and sleep until two when his alarm would awaken the entire house and everything around for miles. Okay, it wasn’t quite that loud, but it always woke me and I was down the hall a good fifty feet. (No, I was not yet allowed to sleep in the bedroom.)

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(Ollie sleeping peacefully after eating.)

I had fallen deeply in love with James by this point. He was my sole source of food after all. There’s an expression James used to say to me, “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” It was clear to me that hand belonged to James.

Now I don’t remember if I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m a kisser. Yes, I like to lick all over. Okay, I call it licking, but James always refers to it as kisses. Every time he took me out of my crate, I would give him kisses all over his face. Of course, I was still sleepy, and needed to stretch and shake out the muscles before doing anything. Besides, I liked being out of my cage. (Yes, it had bars on it – more like prison – but it was comfy and all mine except when I allowed Trek to use it.)

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(Ollie sharing his crate, and toys, with his BFF Trek.)

It also meant that we were going outside. Now, sometimes when James woke me, it was dark outside. Even with the porch light turned on, it was still dark in the distance. The smells coming my way through the wind, well, let me tell you, had James been able to detect those odors I don’t think we would have ventured out. Regardless, we did.

Wouldn’t you know it, James always wanted me to – BANG! – do my business as soon as the night air hit me. Oh, no. I was too worried about the scents I sensed to be able to do anything. My sphincter was tighter than a knot. After a good fifteen minutes or so, I realized that the foreigners in the distant dark were not coming to get us, and I could relax.

It should be known that because I was put back inside my crate as soon as I took care of business, I often delayed it on purpose. I mean, it was nighttime; we were out of the bed/crate; my toys were beckoning me to play with them; I did what any red-blooded Old English Sheepdog would do – I stalled as long as possible. Sure, I had to go, but at least pretend we’re going to hang out together after I do my business – then I would have done it sooner.

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(Ollie sleeping peacefully and snuggling with his toys from which he can’t seem to be separated.)

Like I said in my prior post about toys, they took precedent to all else. Well, being out of that crate was also rather nice. Sure, I did like how cozy it was inside, but playing with James and my toys was the cat’s meow. (I’m not real sure what that means, but I think I’ve used it correctly – besides, James wouldn’t have included it if I hadn’t.)

Without further ado, here’s a second poem (the other was about my toys) James wrote during my sixteenth week:

NIGHTTIME

is the sweet time

sleeping soundly
safely in your crate
so calm and precious
as I peacefully breath
for a few hours
before we wake
I from the sweet time
you from your slumber
to go outside
to do your business

you greet me with sweet kisses
as if I’m Saint James
nary a bite nor nibble
sleepy-eyed and yawning
stretching your entire length
a football field would envy
before leaving your nest

drowsy as you are
slowly walking to the stairs
taking them leisurely
pausing half way up
as if climbing Mt Fiji
finally stepping on the top
then to the door
the open-air

sweet success

returning to the entrance
pausing to lie down alfresco
on the cool flagstone
yet with a whistle you rise
look longingly at me
as I provide an incentive
a sweet treat
to enter

it wont be long
being sixteen weeks
before you’ll sleep
through the night
or so they say

yet this night
getting you back to your bubble
as I must
is not easy
for once released
you find freedom refreshing
invigorating

back inside
an incentive
a sweet treat
is tendered

your countenance is tenderly longing
and I find myself sympathetic to your plight
but it is the nighttime
and I long for bed
and sleep
for a few hours
before our next excursion

nighttime is the sweet time

Awe! Isn’t that a sweet poem? Yes, I was often lured back behind the bars with a treat. I know, I’m a sucker for a treat. (Don’t let on, but I had trained James to give me a treat to get me back in the crate. I’m a rather clever fellow.)

We hope you’re enjoying my first year and reading the poems James wrote. Come back in two weeks time and read about my business. Oh, that poem may not be appropriate for all audiences, so James may want to skip it. We’ll see who wins that battle – stay tuned.

Also, let us know your opinion of these stories and the poems James wrote. I always like to hear from you, so please feel free to leave me a comment about this or anything else that’s on your mind.

Until next time,
Short Stories - Author Webpage Help Needed
Sir Oliver of Skygate Farm (you can call me Ollie)

 

Paw Prints courtesy of www.pawsitivelyloved.com
All photos © James Stack 2017 unless otherwise indicated
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