Dog Diary — End of Week 4 of My New Life

“Sara: Pantry Privileges, Licking Statistics, and the Power of Carob”

Dear Diary,

It is now official: I have my own shelf in the pantry.

This is not just a storage decision.
This is recognition of status.

The humans open the pantry and there it is — Sara’s Shelf — stacked with my belongings like a shrine to excellent life choices. I allow this.

My tail wags are increasing daily. Bigger. Faster. Waggier. Especially when I see people. I have upgraded from polite interest to full-body enthusiasm. I have also graciously permitted the humans unlimited access to my belly. Belly rubs are now open season, and business is booming.

Regarding food preferences:
Kangaroo? Beneath me.
Sardines? I liked them for exactly one (1) day. Then I moved on spiritually.

I am a complex woman.

This week, I have been running a scientific experiment titled:
“How Many Times Can Humans Say ‘Sara, Stop Licking’ Before They Lose Hope?”

Current count: 10,496 and counting.
I will publish my findings soon.

We visited the nice woman at the pet shop. She had never met me before, but immediately recognised greatness and marvelled at how wonderful I look. Naturally. She gave me treats. I accepted them with humility.

Training to stay on my bed during human dinner came to a screeching halt when the humans ran out of carob — my most sacred and valuable currency. Order was restored once more carob was acquired. Training resumed last night. I performed exceptionally and only got off my bed once.

I also now mostly stay at the end of the kitchen while they cook. They insist I cannot enter because of “hot stuff,” which feels like an obnoxious way of talking about themselves, but fine.

We went for a walk and I did not see my neighbour woman. I remain hopeful and will try again today.

At the park, there were two dogs behind a fence. The woman worried they might jump it. Luke man assessed them and said, “They’re too fat to jump anything.” He was correct.

I looked at them.
I was offered carob to ignore them.
The carob won.

I was promised an adventure to the nursery to collect dirt and drink coffee, but tragedy struck — it was closed. The woman took me the long way home as compensation. We drove past Sawtell Headland, but I am not ready for that level of adventure until I am free of my Dundies, which will be very soon.

Another vet visit approaches. The humans will report that I have been doing much better with my allergies. I agree.

We’ve started watching Christmas movies. The woman is searching for one with Kevin Bacon, which I appreciate deeply. The other night we watched a man named Die Hard. Luke man insists this is a Christmas movie. I am undecided, but I trust him.

My new soft cone arrived. It is far superior to the cursed plastic satellite dish from the vet. I still dislike it, but I am honourable and do not cause much fuss. Growth.

The woman has noticed I eat better when my bowl is on an angle. I have seen her shopping for Christmas presents, so I assume Santa will be bringing me a tilted bowl. That is, if she ever finishes shopping — or sets up her new phone — because if she is in the house, I require at least one hand on me at all times.

If she stops, I escalate by shoving my entire head under her arm until she gives up, cuddles me, kisses me, and tells me how cute I am. She says, “Sara, it’s not funny,” but she laughs when she says it. I grin. We both know I’ve won.

With affection and excellent timing,

Sara
Keeper of the Pantry Shelf
Professor of Licking Research
Director of Mandatory Cuddles