When I had Stella, my Cane Corso, sleeping in was a stealth mission. This was back in the day when I believed in the whole “pack theory, be a leader to your dog” agenda so she slept in a crate at the foot of my bed. Granted it was a 48″ crate, which meant the top was about 6″ taller than the top of my bed. On the rare days when I did have the chance to sleep in I would drift awake and immediately freeze, hoping Stella hadn’t noticed. Unfortunately she was already wide awake and staring at me thanks to that 6″. No matter how still I was there was one thing I couldn’t fake: Stella could tell I was awake by the changes in my breathing. So after a few minutes of trying to be a ninja while she stared at me and trilled (yes, trilled) I would sigh and get up, starting the day with my big, shiny, beautiful black beast.
With Wally it’s the polar opposite. Every day, no matter if I’m getting up to an alarm or sleeping in, I always wake up before Wally. And not just wake up first, get up first. Wally doesn’t believe in getting out of bed. As far as he’s concerned you should stop all this silly “waking up” and willingly surrender to the cuteness of his morning floppiness. On Sundays, when we usually do sleep in, I’ll wake up to find Wally sleeping on his giant Costco bed on the floor (he gets too hot on the bed with us). I drag him up with me where he buries his face under my chin and flops sideways down my chest. If I try to move he wills every ounce of his 17lb body to hold me down, stretching in cuteness to lure me into relaxing. Finally I slide out from under him (barely) and he simply melts into the bed. I have to literally drag him out of bed most mornings, or coax him out with sweet nothings and back rubs as though he were a teenager and I was the mom asking him to mow the lawn.