I wake at 3am in Switzerland, which is 6pm in Idaho. Mom is awake. I wake at 1pm in Switzerland, which is 4am in Idaho. Mom is asleep. To be sure, she suffers from jet lag more than I do.
Still, I suffer: I always think it's breakfast time when it's dinner time and dinner time when it's breakfast time. It's snack time all the time. Mom says, "That's not a jet lag problem, my squiggly wiggly druid."
Oh, jet lag.
Because the time is essentially flipped with a nine-hour difference, when my body thinks it should be light, it's dark, and when my body thinks is should be dark, it's light.
Oh, the problems of little dogs.
But I'm not complaining! I'm not barking! During commute times--our commute between Idaho and Switzerland--when jet lag is ruff, I manage. I burrow. I nap. I dream.
My secret skill?
I pretend I'm a dachshund druid with special powers to resist jet lag.
I love to cuddle, so I cuddle up to poor Mom. Since she works online, she just works when she wakes. In the middle of the night, or was it day?, she watched BBC's streaming video of the second U.S. Presidential debate. Mom says jet lag is cute on a low-down dog. She says it's not cute on a high-up human.
Do you think I should teach Mom how to pretend she's a dachshund druid with special powers to embrace jet lag?