dog watchers

Woke today to the sound of rain pummeling the roof at 0-“my Lord it’s too early to shake this sleep-aid” o’clock.  I closed my eyes.

Some time later I smell cooking bacon.  And other familiar sounds coming from the kitchen.   And when I stumbled out there, the two hairiest fans of Sheri’s chow line, Comet and Dexter, are focused on her moves, the sizzling bacon coming from the oven (frying in a pan on the stove is so ‘old-school’ now)  and eggs in the skillet on the stove.  I get no greeting, or perhaps only a glance.  pexels-photo.jpg

“We’re helping Mom”,  they seem to be saying.

Needless to say, there’s always a little something that goes into their bowls at this time.

As for the hairy mister,  I am only too happy to cradle a warm cup of coffee in an Air Force Museum mug bearing my name.  In my stupor it is a good thing to see it and confirm that this is my coffee.   With only the two of us at home,  it might amuse those readers who (still) jump out of bed, that I have to ask which cup is mine.  Brain fog only lifts  after that cup, a shower and a little fried egg and bacon. DSC_0017

But I should be getting out for work already.  Nobody relieves the watch these days.


dog-watch or “dogging the watch” – Once upon a time, when I was a young Sailor aboard my Navy ship,  I would have been assigned the 0400 to 0800 watch while in port.  Three of us monitored the deck brow for comings and goings, which at the time was when the galley crew would be preparing breakfast for several hundred men aboard.   Exhaust fans would waft the smells of bacon or sausage up and out where I stood on ship – the area we Sailors know as the Quarterdeck.  Coffee was always available, but bacon and eggs, fresh eggs, were not.    At 0630,  the oncoming watch would relieve us, dogging the watch, while we ate, quickly, and then return to finish our assigned watch.


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