Why her name is “Bean”
Bean has been confined to the bedroom at night, as I still don’t know how she does with the housetraining, and I didn’t want to take any chances. She sleeps very soundly sprawled out on the floor, and there have been no problems.
Until 6am rolls around.
At first, she’ll just nudge my foot. She’s not a large dog, so it’s a light nudge. Just once.
Then, if I don’t give any response, she’ll nudge again and whine. Nudge-nudge, whineeeee.
Nudge-nudge-nudge, whineeeeeee whineeeeeeee.
If I still don’t get up, she comes up to my face. She’ll try a whine there, too. If I still don’t move, she’ll go lie down on the floor with a big sigh. That lasts about five minutes, before she decides that it’s Time To GET UP. It’s something akin to being attacked by a black, furry, chirping cannonball with long, gangly legs and a tongue that seems to have a range of 360 degrees and that is faster than the speed of sound. It’s the same treatment I get when I walk through the door, except in the morning, I am usually sound asleep when it happens.
And even if I push her off, she comes back for MORE.
Until, of course, I get up, which is the signal to Run Up And Down The Stairs As Loudly And As Quickly As Possible, until the neighbor bangs on the wall and shouts, at which it is time to Stop In The Middle Of The Stairs And Bark At The Wall, until it becomes Time To Go Outside And Pee On Everything At Least Four Times.
I will say this: after about four mornings of this, you learn to get up and get the dogs outside very, very quickly, very possibly taking all the stairs in a single bound, finishing with a quick roll and simultaneously dislocating your shoulder to open the door, Jason-Bourne-Style.