My Mornings Are Full of Shit Shovelers

And they’re chatty

Claire Franky
4 min readMay 10, 2024


Photo by Mari Potter on Unsplash

“Not yet. Five more minutes,” I said from underneath my comforter.

An excited panting moved from one side of the bed to the other. Then a low growl.

Who turned Pornhub on?

“Ssshhh!” I hissed.

A howl filled the room.

“Damn it, Sammy,” I huffed as I threw back the covers and slid my legs out of bed.

He bounced excitedly. He knew the howl would work. The only thing worse than the dog waking up early was the two-year-old dictator down the hall waking up early.

Not that I don’t enjoy making macaroni necklaces and being ordered to baa before the sun rises.

I shushed Sammy again as he spun in circles, whacking me and the furniture with his tail.

Stumbling down the hallway was made harder by the folk dance he insisted on performing in front of my every step. I closed the bathroom door in his face and proceeded to brush my teeth while the twat scratched at the door.

I thought about napping in the bathtub but there was a spider in there eight months ago and the tub was still in quarantine.