I am tired. So, so, so tired. And I know exactly why this feeling of exhaustion consumes me.
It seems that his internal alarm clock has changed its setting. No longer is he content to get up at 6 a.m. and lumber around. Oh, no. He’s up and at ’em at 4:30 a.m. Wooing in the face of Mark. Mark and I try to tell him to “Go bed” but he no longer responds to the command. He simply becomes more persistent with his pleas, his vocalizations sounding like a car trying to turn over on a sub-zero morning.
After walking around in a very unattractive zombie state for what seemed to be weeks on end, Mark and I decided it was time to bring out the big guns. Or big gun, I should say. The squirt bottle. Oh, the squirt bottle. It comes in quite handy as an effective, humane correction method. One spray in the face, and Denali ceases to misbehave. We put it on a ledge next to the bed and were ready should the situation present itself.
Like clockwork, Denali was stirring at 4:30 this morning. Talking and moaning about whatever he likes to talk and moan about. Mark told him to go to bed. Sorry, Mark. Denali had more important things to say. He got one more chance to “listen” and then it was spray, spray. With that, Denali went back to bed.
I still woke up but at least I didn’t have 10 minutes of fighting with him to go back to his “bed.” Just two. I’m hoping that we can get him back to the days when he didn’t get up until we physically got out of bed.
Keep your fingers crossed!