As you may know from the book, I am very fond of routine. I really appreciate the comfort that comes with a dependable event at a regular time. But no one in our home loves routine more than Tucker, the dog. His world truly revolves around the expectation of the routines of his day. Change totally stresses him out. We don’t really know why, because we are not Tucker’s first family.

As with all of our animals, Tucker is a ‘found’ member of the family (they either found our door, or we found them at the Humane Society). Tucker showed up one frosty winter morning, cold, hungry, sick and lonesome. Hubby opened the door, the dog walked in, went to sleep for two days and has been here ever since. He was wearing a collar but no tags. He was so sick with heartworms, it took two dreadful treatments to rid him of them. We tried to find his owner, but all efforts failed. 

That’s okay, though. Tucker was meant to be our dog. 

He came fully trained. He totally didn’t care that we had four cats. Oddly enough, the cats didn’t mind him either - even the Wretched One. They would walk up to him, sniff his nose, shrug their shoulders like “Eh” and walk away. 

A couple of days after he joined us, I went to bed with a migraine. The dog seemed to know. He came beside the bed and sat back with his two front paws in the air. For some reason, he reminded me of a court jester. I could just picture him wearing a big, harlequin collar. I think he would have stayed there for hours if I hadn’t told him to lie down. He is a wonderful fellow and a quiet companion. 

The strangest adjustment to our new pup was identifying Tucker’s quirks, which often reflected his routine. I started off feeding him twice a day. He always left his breakfast but ate dinner. I eventually figured out he was a one-meal-a-day dog. He also wanted to 'earn’ his supper. He had to sit, shake and lie down before it was okay to eat. But the strangest quirk was that he wouldn’t eat until we left the room. 

Sometimes I wish I knew what his back story is … and sometimes I’m glad that I don’t. 

I am now Tucker’s job. He has taken it upon himself to be my protector. He usually lays right behind me as I tap away at my keyboard. In the evenings, he lays on his bed and patiently waits for me to head to the bedroom. If I stay up too late, he quietly moves to the bedroom door and looks at me as if to say, “You know, we need to go to bed now.” I am something of a disruption to his routine. 

But Hubby is the caretaker of Tucker’s routine. They are absolute pals. In the morning, when I pad off to get Morning Coffee started, Tucker barely lifts his head from his chair (Tucker has a chair in our bedroom from which he can see our bed and the door. It is his chair. No one is allowed to sit in it, and it is the only piece of furniture he gets on). He will lay there, like the patient dog he is until we have finished our coffee. He doesn’t move until Hubby puts his shoes on. That’s his cue that it’s time for his Morning Spritz. Only then will he get up, do his doggy yoga (Downward Dog: stretch back. Upward dog: stretch forward). Tail starts to wag, and they are off for their morning tour of the yard. Tucker usually includes a visit to our neighbor, Phyllis, as part of his outing. They’re great friends. 

Upon his return, he gets a treat. The rest of the morning is spent waiting for M&M (the mailman).  There can be no outdoor time for Tucker until M&M is gone for the day. He has serious postal carrier issues.

Five o'clock is the magic hour for Tucker. That’s when Hubby prepares dinner: dog kibble moistened with a little wet cat food or some particularly choice people leftovers. After a thirty minute wait, it’s time for the evening walk. Off they trot, taking the same route every day to a spot we call Tucker Park (a small open space with trees and grass a couple blocks away).  

When they return, Tucker heads straight for the treat cupboard where Hubby pulls out the much beloved Puperoni. Tucker gently takes the offered treat and heads to his bed. The other day, Hubby looked in the Puperoni pouch and declared that the Mayan Doggie Calendar will end in two days. (That was my cue to dutifully go and procure another pouch. The Mayan Doggie Calendar has now been re-set). 

With one final policing of the property later in the evening, Tucker’s day is complete. 

Now, if he could just get me to go to bed on schedule.