Some days you wake up and do not feel like being all you can.

In fact, it’s pretty difficult for a large segment of the population to be anything other than barely conscious when first waking up; you go to the bathroom and then proceed to consume multiple caffeinated beverages until you can focus. And then you consume some more.

This is because the body requires a period of adjustment before assuming any persona not characterized as sluggish.

Other people, however, are what I like to call crazy awake when they first get up. They zoom around as if each minute is an opportunity for greatness.

I’m pretty good with that as long as my knees are slightly bent before they run into and/or over me.

After observing how my dogs behave most mornings, though, I’ve come to the realization that embodying the spirit of full belly is not so off the mark when it comes to describing how I would prefer to be on most mornings.

I can bring measured intellect to my writing in the morning, especially after I watch how my dogs are reacting once they’ve eaten.

They’re pretty active just before eating–wagging their tails, smiling and licking their lips in anticipation as drool drops start their descent to the floor.

When the coffee machine begins its gurgling sounds, I also find myself salivating (but I try to keep the drops from hitting the floor).

This is what I consider one of the principal differences between civilized human beings such as myself and dogs: My saliva (mostly) is self-contained.

Each day as I put the dogs’ bowls down for their meals I advise them to enjoy the food. Some days I silently mouth the words, “Live to eat, dawgs; do not eat to live.”

I smile and feel good as the bowls begin to clang in their frames to the steady rhythms of the dogs’ consumption.

Soon the food is gone. They each go to the other’s bowl looking for meal remnants, passing one another along the way before sitting side by side in anticipation of the reward I will give each of them.

After eating the main course the droolies are largely replaced by wiggling butts and patient glances. They anticipate the treats that are their biscuit love.

All too soon, the biscuits are chewed, swallowed and their mutual retreat to the couch is underway (as are their naps soon thereafter).

I start my second cup of coffee after all this has occurred and prepare my organic microwaveable oatmeal. Something about preparing anything organic in a microwave always seems wrong to me, but I don’t dwell on it. It’s still healthy, right?

Visions of running on a treadmill tend to creep in once the oatmeal has been eaten. It always feels odd to me if I’m walking on a sidewalk, pass a fitness center and see runners on treadmills. Their wearing shorts and t-shirts further adds to my confusion as a winter parka covers my body.

The treadmill visions soon pass.

It’s once again time to be everything I am meant to be and get to work.