Every day our bedtime routine is the same. First I go out for my last poop. I am taken alone because River Song is a selfish pooper. For her and her expanded butt hole pooping is a breeze. But I am short, fluffy and tight all over. I can't just stop and pop. I have to sniff, circle several times like a bombardier sizing up its Target then let my payload out and hope gravity does the rest
If River is with me she gets done first then begins pulling to go home. How rude! Usually, it is right when I am circling my target. If you jostle the bombardier, you put the mission in jeopardy. And if the mission fails tragedy will follow in the form of me getting gas and nasty diarrhea
I am lucky Papa recognizes the danger and arranges to take us out separately. Humans, unless at one point they were forced to poop as part of a chain gang do not know how difficult it is to poop tethered to another soul. I don't think that even the thieves, murderers or fornicators would begin to leave the stall while their mate was in full. Squat. If they did, after working all day in the hot sun next to someone covered in their own excrement they would learn never to do it again. That is why I would rather poop tethered to a criminal than a River.
After our pooping mission is complete and we are both back inside it's time for our most useless activity: tooth brushing. When I was a young pup and Foley was in charge we never got our teeth brushed. Then Foley had to have her teeth cleaned and pulled. After that, we got brushed every night. After five years I had to have a dozen teeth pulled and now, two years after I am going for extraction and cleaning at the end of the month. Obviously brushing is a waste of time. But I still get subjected to it every night. “if River is getting it done so are you,” my parents tell me. But I go along so at least something on River will be white.
After our teeth are brushed, we are brought into the bedroom and placed on the bed. We both get a handful of kibble. Then Daddy goes to the front bathroom while mommy uses the one off the bedroom. I knew what Mommy was doing because I could see her. What Daddy did was a mystery. One day last week I tired of sitting next to River while She licked herself and I hopped down from the bed to explore what Daddy was doing.
I found him in the bathroom doing what Mommy does but standing up. How gauche. With nothing to see there, I decided to explore the house. In a matter of seconds, I realized I had never been left alone in the house before. I could explore without my parents telling me to leave something alone or my nosy sister butting in. I could spread out on the loveseat, curl up on the recliner, climb up high on the lift chair and no one would know. I could make a sandwich. I could turn on the TV and watch what I want to watch. It is a few minutes of splendor a night.
And now the hop off the bed to see what Daddy's doing and then explore the house without distraction is part of my nightly routine. I cherish those two or three minutes when I can have the house to myself just let pocket be pocket.
But not any longer than that. A pocket gets lonely.