The biggest change of getting a dog has been our morning routine.   We used to lazily set the alarm for 6 am, fully intending to wake up together to the sound of chirping birds.  We'd lovingly gaze into the warmth of each other's glorious eyes and remark how perfect our lives are. How lucky we feel to be together. How the world was made just for the two of us to be centered together.  Sometimes we'd fall back to sleep, wrapped in each others loving arms and awake again, just to repeat the process. It was random. It was unstructured. It was lovely.  Our dear little Roscoe has changed all of that.  Now, at the stroke of 6 am I jump out of bed, throw on whatever haphazardly lays around the floor and won't totally terrify the neighbors, grab a likely pee-covered leash and rush our little peeing machine down 3 flights of stairs to the grass below.  Bleary eyed, I gently coo to our pup, "go bafroom, Roscey, go bafroom."  After he has accomplished his business, I attempt to take him for a walk. During said "walk" he alternately bites my pajama pants and his leash.  With every fiber of my being I try to stay in control and calmly "train" him not to do either behavior.  Really all I want to do is hoist him up by the leash and let him dangle there until he knocks it off. (don't worry, this never happens)  At about 6:35 I drag my sorry rear back up 3 flights of stairs to hand off the animal to the ear doctor so I can get ready for work. I'm not really sure what happens for the next 20 minutes because that time is dedicated alone time.  By 7:15 we are eating breakfast together and attempting to teach the little rascal not to beg from the table or jump into the love sac for our attention.  By 7:17 I have hurriedly cleared our bowls and the ear doctor is on his way to Roscoe's bin of smelly dog food to feed the beast.  By 7:18 the creature has finished his breakfast and is again threatening to pee all over my new beautiful green rug.  We then, the three of us gather all I'll need for the day and walk back down the 3 flights of stairs to go on a family walk and do some training together. This is my favorite time. The three of us are there and we're pretty ridiculously happy. I look over at my two guys and realize I'm a pretty lucky girl.  They walk me to my car.  The ear doctor works from home this summer, so I'm off to bring home some bacon while he raises the pooch and contributes to his chosen field of research. (Which, BTW, I'm totally proud of him for. He's going to improve the life of countless little kids with hearing problems)  As I sit in my car I glance back in my rear view mirror and see my man, standing tall and very handsome with a thin green leash in his left hand.  That leash gently loops down to a patient little adorable puppy who has clearly watched me walk away and get in the car, ready to leave.  I realize in that moment that I'm going to miss those two while I'm away at work all day.  Even thought I'd already bent over twice that morning to scoop up piles of foul smelling excrement, I was going to miss them.   Then I realize that this is probably a pretty small little glimpse of what the ear doctor's life is going to be like when we have our first baby and he has to go to work in the morning. I'll be holding our little poop-maker of an infant and he'll glance back at me, begrudgingly leaving for work.  He'll wish he didn't have to go. He'll wish he could stay with us all day and help me raise our little runt.  And I want to remember that feeling because it was nice.