The Morning Treat and What Routine Gives Us Both

Something strange happens at my house every day at six forty five. My dog Scooby Boy lies patiently by the counter waiting for his treat. He does not yelp and he does not scratch. He simply appears every day at the same time while I’m making my coffee, body angled toward the cupboard, eyes glued to the bag, tracking my every movement.

When I pull out a biscuit and hand it over, he does his usual ritual and takes it ever so gently.

Neither of us have formally planned this out, yet a gentle unspoken understanding caused it to happen. The first time it happened I took note of it, so I was not surprised to see him waiting the next morning.

He can sense the difference between a Tuesday and a Saturday even if no one speaks a word. He takes note of every minute detail and is on high alert when things aren’t right.

People sometimes frame a dog’s love of sameness as a little sad. From the outside, maybe. But dogs value trust and reliability far more than we do, and there is real joy in that.

Routine can give hope. It does help. When you get up, there will always be a new morning. The bowl will be filled, and the walk will always happen. Most importantly, the person will always return.

Living with Scooby Boy has made me notice my own systems. The same coffee, the same loop around the park, the same order to the morning. Long story short, I do systems too.

Scooby Boy does not need rigid rules, just a loose set of anchors. In keeping them for him, I have set a rhythm for myself, and that rough structure is a gift that keeps me sane.

The news changes, work changes, whole weeks change shape. The treat at six forty five does not. When I reach for the bag, the same soothing feeling settles over both of us.

He doesn’t know he’s giving me something. He just knows this is how the day starts, and that is all that matters.

I think that is the present a ritual gives the two of us. Not thrill or anticipation, but the certainty that something small and reliable is there. That there’s an outline to the day that we can both count on. That even if everything else is in flux, this one moment will come again tomorrow, constant and unchanging.

As Scooby Boy finishes his treat, he finds his spot near my feet while the coffee is brewing. The light of the morning is pouring through the window as it always does. For a couple of still moments, the world is as it should be.