We're gonna get healthy!

Andrew and I were sitting on the couch last night watching "Pretty In Pink" (a true 80's classic) and we got on the topic of not feeling healthy enough. I was complaining about how I don't really do anything very active during the week other than walking/running around the vet's office doing appointments and such. And he was concurring that he felt similar because he sits at a desk all day long.

So i said, "we should start running!" (Let me just make a small, perhaps insignificant note here...I have never been a runner. Yoga and Pilates= more my speed.)

Knowing Andrew and his unwillingness to make an actual plan (he likes to be spontaneous), we came to an agreement that we would motivate each other to try to walk/run at least 3 times a week. Today was our first venture out and this is how it began:

6:10am: Phoebe jumps on my face.

6:12am: I open my eyes and see 10 staring back at me....never a pleasant sight.

6:13am: I finally break (as I always do) because I'm awake now and there is no point trying to pretend that I'm asleep so the vultures will go away...because they don't care. They just want breakfast.

6:20am: After almost breaking my neck trying to reach the light before someone trips me, blocking Leira strategically to prevent her from eating any of the cat's food and then getting the correct food in all the correct bowls (Tuna and Phoebe on regular adult, Lorelai currently on a mixture of adult and a urinary tract diet and Dip and Bianca on a Senior formula) , I crawl back into bed. And I lay there on my back, eyes wide open and stare at the ceiling. (Sleeping in...never really an option.)

6:23am: My eyes are fluttering shut and.....I hear someone hacking. (Damn it!) I fumble for the light and turn it on just in time to see the 2 piles of vomit that Lorelai has just thrown up.

I don't do vomit early in the morning for I might vomit myself. So Andrew (wonderful boyfriend that he is) grabs a towel and the resolve (best.cleaning.up.pet.goo.EVER!) and I check on our furry friend to make sure she's ok. She's fine. Just a combination of eating too fast and getting used to a new food (even though I mixed in equal proportions of old and new food like I'm supposed to. Why can't my pets be text book?)

6:28am: Back in bed.

6:29am:Leira shoves her paw in my face. And I hear a random scratching sound like someone is in the litter box in the bedroom. But wait...there is no litter box in the bedroom. I fumble for the light switch again and see that Lorelai has indeed urinated on a pillow that I had left on the floor. (well, at least she's peeing more now...)

I get up, throw it and previous vomit soiled towel into the washing machine and go ahead and start it to prevent the smell from lingering.

6:34am: Said washing machine is processed! It starts making this horrendous noise like it's going to attack any minute and I exclaim to Andrew, "Our neighbors officially hate us." He gets up and turns it off.

6:36am: We look at each other, "Do you just want to get up and go running?"

Defeated, I say "Ok."

6:42am: We're in our running gear, stumbling over Leira trying to get our socks and shoes on but she knows something's up and she's going to get to do something very exciting in her world and she can barley contain herself! I get one sock on but struggle with the next because she keeps sneaking up behind me and licking my armpit....so.not.cute.

6:45am: We make it downstairs and find yet another pile of vomit (this time a hairball so Dip or Bianca is most likely the culprit) and another spot of urine on the carpet. (Really?)

6:48am: Resolve is put away, icky spots are drying and Leira's leash is on. We walk out the door and begin our jog.

7:00am: We soon discover that Leira is not equipped for jogging (even at our slow pace.) She keeps getting distracted by all of the smells and keeps looking up at us like "jeez guys, where's breakfast?" She too exhibits a bit of dry heaving and doesn't quite vomit, but does shake her head resulting in a big pile of slobber landing on the very top of her head. This apparently makes her feel better and she picks up speed.

Overall the jog (let's be honest, mostly fast-pace walking...?) went pretty well. And we both do feel better, having got up and started our day using some energy. Our next goal is Tuesday morning (but it's not a "plan" per Andrew...we're going to wing it.)

I've decided that the earlier morning events resulted from the pets overhearing our conversation from the night before and wanting to help "motivate" us to get up this morning.

If this is the case, I love you guys, but your technique needs a bit of improvement.