Most of the time when William wakes me up very early in the morning, it's because he needs to go out, but that's not always the case. Sometimes, after I've gotten out of bed, thrown on clothes, struggled into a coat, stuffed my pockets with poop bags, and grabbed the leash, William doesn't want to go out. When this happens, instead of going back to bed, I usually make myself a cup of coffee and settle down at the computer, and William lies down contentedly at my feet. I have come to the conclusion that on these occasions William just wants me awake. It is as if, at the age of fifteen, he senses that our time together is drawing short, and he doesn't want me to sleep through any more of it than is absolutely necessary.
This concludes our birthday series of William stories--fifteen stories for fifteen years. We started celebrating William's birthday on Sunday night, when he had a big, juicy steak for dinner, and continued celebrating throughout the day yesterday, when beef jerky replaced his regular treats on dog walks. For a dog, festivity is all about food.