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Every night before bed I write a list of what I need to do the following day. Lately that list has been very realistic. Just a few things, easy peasy. 

I wake at 7am because he wakes at 7am. Levy waits to see the whites of my eyes and then springs towards me, all tongue and sharp nails. There is nothing that gets you out of bed faster than talons on your face. 

Downstairs, peeing for everyone, raw meat nuggets for him, coffee for me, flower seed gathering, watering, and then back upstairs to the studio with a full mug. This is when I would normally look at that list from the night before and get some shit done. But instead Levy races upstairs behind me. He grabs a shoe and runs away. I take it from him. He chews on my pant cuff. I tell him no. He threatens to bite the cords running from printer and computer and iron. I give him a look which says, We've Been Over This, and he backs away. He settles on chewing a hole through 25 plastic garment bags I use for shipping. Exasperated I put him in the crate so I can at least check email. He cries and rattles the door and looks at me like "Already!?" so I let him out in a few minutes and we take a walk. Upon returning home I feel we've made a deal and I should now be able to at least check email. He breaks that deal and chews on the iron cord. I shout NO and he races from the room, accidentally pulling the hot iron with him which falls to the ground, hitting my hand on the way down, scaring both of us. I explain to him, sternly, that that is why he cannot chew on the iron cord. He listens and apologizes but asks if I have anything he could chew on please? I offer the rubber bone. I offer the pink fabric sleeve. I pick him up and he falls asleep on my chest. Now I'm pinned to the couch with a sleeping dog on my lap.

At least I've checked email. 

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