My rescue pup, Lela loves food. This dog even goes out of her way to chow down on napkins/paper towels/plates/trash bags that have come into contact with some yummy, intended for human-consumption-only delights.
So, if bacon can't get her off the bed and outside in the mornings, I don't know what will.
Since the temperatures starting skyrocketing, Lela finds comfort in lying silently on the bed under the cool breeze of the fan. I never give her enough credit for being smart, but she has figured out our routine.
Morning according to Lela:
Alarm. Ella jumps on the bed to annoy mom. Mom gets up and gets ready work. I pretend to be asleep. Mom says let's go outside. Ella heads for the door. I don't move. Mom comes to lure me with treat. I don't move. Ella annoys me with Pogo/Monkey Butt/Spooky Guy/Green Kitty. I don't budge. Me=Winning.
It's all going pretty well for Lela until I am forced to crawl on the bed and drag her to the floor. She then bolts for the couch. If she wasn't so cute, I could fight those eyes. But she wins again.
I've upped by tactics by bringing bacon into the fold. Lela isn't fooled. It is my folly for thinking I could out wit a dog.
Maybe I should invest in filet mignon or lobster.