In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Dog Named Bob.”
Tuesday was like any other Tuesday when I first woke up. I hit my alarm three times, per usual. I stretched my arms out, feeling the stretch through my whole body, then slowly sat up. My dog, Bob, stretched with me every morning. He seemed about as willing to get out of bed as I did. My feet hit the cool tiled floor, and I used them to feel for my slippers. Once on my feet, I shuffled to the front door, and walked out to the mailbox. I’d forgotten to check it the last couple of days, knowing I wouldn’t receive anything worth checking. Mail these days, seemed to consist of ads, bills and more ads. No I didn’t need frozen steaks from the Midwest, no I didn’t need refillable ink, and I certainly did not need a collapsible hose.
I looked at the street in front of me. I lived on a quiet road about a half mile from town. I was far enough away, I could still hear the chickadees and blue jays chirp away in the early morning, but close enough that it only took a handful of minutes to get to the store. I loved my little home. It was in need of repairs, but not today. Today was going to be….well, it was going to be Tuesday. I had to eat breakfast and get into the shower before anything else happened. But first, I had to take care of my best friend, Bob. I went back inside and grabbed his food scoop in the pantry, gave him an extra large scoop and dumped it into his bowl. Bob hungrily plowed through breakfast like it was a new, exotic dish he’d never had before.
I grabbed myself a plate and four frozen leftover pancakes I’d made a few days ago, and defrosted them in the microwave. While the cakes were defrosting, I put a pot of coffee on, grabbed the butter and syrup from the fridge, and set them on the table. I went back for my pancakes, which were nice and steamy, and loaded them with butter, making sure each cake got a good slather, and poured the syrup until it flowed down the sides of the pancakes, like a gooey ganache.
Usually I didn’t check my email or look at a phone while I was eating, as I found eating, especially breakfast, to be a holy matter, to be concentrated on with the utmost undivided attention, but today for some reason, I felt the need to check. Before I got to the mail app though, I noticed a text message from my friend and co-worker Jenine. As much as we were friends, we were total opposites. I was an early morning riser, and she was more of the mid-morning type. She usually wouldn’t be up for another two hours. This message had come in at 6am. I quickly tapped the screen.
“Oh my God Marcie, what is going on?? Are we supposed to go in today?”
The message was both frightening and confusing. I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Whtz up?” I texted back.
“Check the news,” was all I received back. I tapped my phone’s news app, and was immediately sucked into the large print and alternating black and red typeface. This was not going to be an ordinary Tuesday after all. The world had just flipped on it’s axis.
I looked at Bob. “Good thing we got a good breakfast in.”