Every Wednesday morning the trash men come. Maggie can hear them for miles away in the predawn dark. Long before I can hear them. It starts with a bark that sounds like a muted cough as she lays on the bed.
"Dammit, Maggie," I muttered this morning as I pulled my spare pillow over my head.
Soon, the coughing bark erupts into full blown mayhem as Maggie runs outside to protect her kingdom from the invading trash men. By this time, all the neighborhood dogs have joined in. Pure canine pandemonium.
When I was a child, we had a dog named Candy. Candy was the same way and would sit outside my brother's window and start this same routine. My brother would run outside in his pajamas and holler at her to shut up. It would make me smile as I would roll over and go back to bed. Now, my past has come back to haunt me. The trash men cometh and the dog barketh. No sleeping in today. I am wide awake now.