"Scarlett!" My mother screamed up the stairs. "What!!" I yelled back. "You have to get up...your dog is waiting!" my mom proceeded to say. "O-K" I said, as I rolled onto my stomach, my face buried in my pillow, wishing only for one more hour of blissful sleep. However my dreams were soon crushed by a huge, long, slobbery tongue licking my face. "God darn..." I whisper to myself. I have to admit, she is sneaky...obviously, my mother had let my dog in my room, or my dog jumped my room's forty-three inch baby gate, which was installed to prevent her from traipsing through the house at night. I would like to think the first is correct, so I have an excuse to berate my mother when I finally get my butt downstairs.

"Okay Chelsea, I'm up." I tell my dog, who stares at me expectantly. "What do you think you're getting, huh?" I ask her as I slowly move my body towards the edge of my bed. She, of course, jumps off while doing some weird acrobatic move, and then runs over to my feet and starts doing her happy dance. I would describe it as somewhere between a bucking bronco and a demented cat. Finally, my feet touch the floor, and just like a scene out of one of those absolutely terrible comedies, I step right in cat vomit.

Thrilled to be awake, I hop to the bathroom on one foot, trying desperately to avoid the protruding nail in one of the floorboards. I quickly wash my foot, throw on a pair of hopefully clean pants, and slip on my boots. As I try to get back into my room, Chelsea is standing, blocking the doorway, trying to back up, but can't really figure out how. So, I simply pick her up, thinking to myself, "This is going to be a very long day!"

I stepped out into the cold, and my fingers immediately froze. Peeking a look at the thermometer next to the door, I say the reading and laughed. "It's ten degrees below zero, so don't expect much kid..." I mumbled to my faithful companion beside me. Chelsea, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind the weather, and darted out across the front lawn. I watch her as she squats, pees, and runs around the fence twice. This is her morning ritual. Then, she comes back to me with what appears to be a smile on her face, that can only be described with one word...food!

Bounding towards the dog, Chelsea leaps into the air, over the steps, and lungs into the screen door. Sometimes, she's not the sharpest tool in the tool shed. But, she swiftly recovers and as I open the door, races to the kitchen. This time she knows she is getting what she wants. I go into the laundry room and open the dry dog food container. "Holy crap!" I say a little to loudly, "this stuff reeks!" I quickly plug my noise, scoop out a cup, and dump it in the bowl. All I hear though is Chelsea doing her happy dance on the other side of the door. "wow...." I mutter.

Retracing my steps, I place the bowl down, and then quickly back away. Chelsea is known to run you over in the name food.

-1 minute later-

"Are you seriously done already?" I ask my dog. She was. She was very done, and most certainly wanted more. But, I wasn't about to give in to the eyebrow wag of hers, so I went into the living room away from the food, and pulled out my IPAD. The first thing I saw was a text from my Aunt, checking up on Chelsea. It was a nice gesture, because the night before I had called her in a panic. Chelsea was breathing much harder than normal, and had vomited earlier in the day.

Now, she's completely fine, as usual. We have taken her to the vet five times in the past week. First it was coughing, then it was scratching, etc. I'm trying not to complain, but even I will agree with my mom...Chelsea is the thousand dollar dog.

To be continued....