A Riddle

My dog sleeps on the floor outside our bedroom door.  He has a bed in the guestroom but he refuses to sleep in there.  Every morning I get up while it’s still dark outside to workout.  Every morning I have to step over the dog and hope he doesn’t trip me in my stupor.  I run on Monday, Wednesday and Saturday.  I take Aika with me on those days.  The other days I go to the YMCA.  Here’s the riddle:

Every morning I come out of my room dressed in workout clothes.  I exit the bedroom at 5:05 on the days I go to the Y, and 5:20 on the days I run.  I never speak to Aika since I am a grouch that early.  On the days I’m going to the Y, he doesn’t move from his spot.  He doesn’t even lift his head to look at me.  Some mornings I wonder if he is dead.  On the days I’m running, he jumps up from his spot and whines and jumps and twirls.  He races down the stairs ahead of me and runs around in circles while I put my shoes on. 

How does he know what day it is?

I wonder if he has a day planner somewhere in his room with the running days circled in red.  Maybe he stores it under his bed with his Victoria Secret catalogs.  Maybe he uses Google calendar from my computer during the night.  I wish I could find his schedule.  I’m pretty sure the running days are outlined like this:

• Wake up and lick genitals.  Wait for Mom to come out of her room then writhe around like I have rabies.  Stomp on her feet multiple times and drool all over her pants.
• Run.  Stop at inconvenient times to urinate even though I’ve already completely emptied my bladder.  Occasionally get tangled in the leash.
• Come home.  Drink feverishly from my bowl to splash the maximum amount of water onto the floor.  Go to the toilet for seconds.  Pant and drool.
• Nap in the middle of the kitchen floor.
• See what Eva is having for lunch and steal it from her hands. 
• Nap in the middle of the living room floor.
• Put my nose on the window to leave streak marks while looking for non-existent squirrels and cats.
• Beg for chicken scraps while Mom makes dinner.
• Hit the sack early.

I think I’d rather be Aika.