Puppies rank among Micah's favoritest things. He has a 6th sense when it comes to newborn puppies. A dog can give birth in the wee smalls of the night, and he'll magically be up an extra hour early, making a beeline for the correct kennel just to see the newborns. And he's so incredibly gentle when he holds them that I have no qualms about letting him hug and pet to his heart's desire. Ironically, as the puppies get older, I put a stop to this.
Micah thinks playing with puppies is much like playing with the Round Up Gang. He can put them in boxes and carry them around, he can give them rides in his trucks, he can put them to bed when they're tired. (That was a fun day, looking for three missing puppies, only to discover them under Luke's covers. Yes, we changed his sheets.) By the time they've been given a grand tour of the house and inadvertently lost once or twice, I finally get smart and put a lock on the crate.
This morning, Micah brought me a puppy as a wake-up call. I knew the boy was up, mind you, because I was laying in bed wishing I could get more sleep, listening to him make his way from room to room downstairs. I heard him unlatch the kennel door and figured he was letting mama dog outside. I waited for the door to open, and waited, and waaaiiiittttted. Huh, maybe he was feeding her instead.
And then there was a puppy on my face. That's an effective alarm clock, right there.
"Thank you, Micah. What a sweet puppy. The black one is your favorite, isn't it? Can you put him away, please? Take him back to his mama." And he scooped up the black puppy and gently carried it out of the room. And down the hall. I heard a few bedroom doors open and realized that the black puppy is now the latest model of alarm clocks. Everyone gets a puppy on the face!
It's time to put the lock on the crate.