Routine

Routine is very important to our Munchkins.  Their lives have a certain rhythm, and they know each step. They can tell time. Ivan gets his thyroid pill an hour before they eat, and Dasa comes to me demanding food almost exactly one hour after they both get sweet potato “pills.” Ivan goes to Eric around 8 pm and looks at him, willing Eric to make me appear because I leave the library at 8 and should be home soon. They know when and where things are supposed to happen.

When we interrupt the regularly scheduled program for the day, they get a little worried. We recently had our kitchen painted. Any other room would not have required quite the planning this project involved. However, not only does the kitchen have the magic food box, but it also contains the door to the back yard. Ivan and Dasa’s food is refrigerated, so we had to find a way to provide their usual three meals a day at the expected times without interrupting the painter. 

We pulled the dorm-sized fridge and the old microwave out of their storage spots in the basement. The Munchkins might attempt to tell you they were held hostage in a dank dark hole. For the record, our basement is finished and contains Eric’s office as well as a bed where we retreat for tornado warnings in the wee hours. It also has a comfy arm chair and lots of small round dog beds. One of their faithful humans was with them at all times, if for no other reason than that we would not trust the little monkeys down there by themselves. We took some of their treats, and toys, we held up the blankets on the bed inviting small dogs to snuggle into blanket nests. We reminded them where their water dish was.

Dasa settled into camping in the basement much more easily than Ivan did.  She napped on the bed and did not get upset as long as we were with her, which is a huge triumph for our little girl who used to hide from the slightest noise or disturbance. Ivan was worried; something was happening upstairs and he wasn’t allowed to supervise. He stood by the baby gate at the bottom of the stairs and made unhappy “no one consulted me about this” noises. We managed to distract him when we started preparing their food. When the painter left for lunch, we took a trip into the back yard, with Ivan and Dasa on leashes to prevent them from acquiring gossamer blue highlights. Ivan grumped and huffed about the leash until we took it off in the back yard. He acquiesced to wearing the leash back through the house, but he was highly indignant.

 

To make matters worse, when the painter went home at the end of the day, Ivan discovered his little bed cave under the kitchen desk had been moved. The entire desk had been moved to the piano room. It was an outrage. He settled into the dog beds beneath the desk and sighed mightily.

 Ivan and Dasa patiently pose in the empty kitchen.
Say Cheese!

 

 Never mind.

 Thank heavens it only took the painter two days to paint the kitchen and adjoining bathroom. Poor little Ivan was exhausted. Both nights he curled up on the couch, draped over Eric’s lap, recovering from his ordeal of spending the day in the basement.

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