For Hank, summer days run something like this: wake, yell, eat, burp, pee, poo, scratch, sniff, yell, sniff, yell, swim, swim, shake, sniff, roll, roll, sniff, swim, swim, shake, yell, roll, roll, scratch, pee, yell, eat, yell, pee, yell, yell, sleep. Which brings us to the evening part of our program, whereupon Hank vigorously reenacts the day in his dreams, preparing to begin afresh the following morning.
Here’s what it looks like:
Find improbably-sized stick and retrieve. Check.
Roll around. Check. Insist that stick is not too large to play with. It is not. Prepare to yell.
Ah, there it is. Nice yelling, Hank. Check.
Lapse into reverie for just a moment; think about that marvelous peach pie at home.
Yes, and that stick is still too big, Hank.
Yell more. Swim more. Roll around a whole bunch. Get innocent passersby wet and sandy. Check, check, checkity-check, check.
Clean up a bit, look suave. Wonder why Cap’s pulling a goofy face. Wonder why Cap’s pulling the “I smell bacon” face, in particular. Remember that Cap’s a little goofy. Big check.
Pull your own face. Head home for pie. Good dog, Hank!
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.