Dog Diary - The Return of Order (And Me, Obviously)
Working Title:“A Temporary Disruption to My Kingdom Has Been Resolved”
Mission: Restore Routine. Maintain Happiness. Continue Being Extremely Important.
Dearest Diary,
It has been some time since my last entry, and I regret to inform you that the household briefly descended into mild chaos.
Do not worry.
I have since restored order.
The Great Disruption: The Woman Leaves the Throne Room
For six long weeks, the woman stopped working from home.
She claimed it was for “important work things,” which I assume meant leaving the house for reasons that did not involve me — already suspicious.
At first, I handled this with grace.
Dignity.
Courage.
But after a couple of weeks… I began to feel it.
The house was quieter.
The routine was off.
My daytime snuggle schedule — disrupted.
I became a little… sad.
Not dramatically (for once), but enough that the humans noticed. And when the humans notice, they panic.
The Easter Long Weekend: Operation Restore Queen Sara
Diary, what followed can only be described as a four-day festival of devotion.
Luke-man and the woman launched a full-scale emotional recovery plan.
There were:
walks,
cuddles,
snuggles,
extended lounging sessions,
attentive companionship at all hours,
and general worship befitting a lady of my status.
The only tragedy?
No treats.
Apparently I had a “slightly upset tummy.”
I would like to state for the record that I was managing this situation just fine.
Still, I endured the temporary injustice, and within a couple of days my tummy resolved itself, as all great systems do.
And then…
My smile returned.
My big, goofy, magnificent grin.
The humans were visibly relieved. Honestly, they were hanging on by a thread.
The Glorious Return of Work-From-Home Life
Balance has now been restored.
The woman is back working from home, which means:
I am no longer rudely extracted from my rightful position in the queen-sized bed each morning.
Instead, I sleep.
And sleep.
And sleep some more.
I now wake naturally — as all royalty should — somewhere between midday and 2pm, stretch gently, and then grace the household with my presence.
The humans consider this progress.
The Skin Saga: A Tale of Baths, Betrayal, and Triumph
About a month ago, I visited the vet.
He suggested antibiotics.
For life.
The woman said — and I quote —
“I don’t think so.”
What followed was a campaign of unprecedented effort.
The vet instructed:
Three baths in one week.
THREE.
Diary… I was appalled.
And yet — the woman persisted.
Since then:
weekly baths (against my will),
moisturisers,
soothing treatments,
potions, lotions, and mysterious goo,
all applied with dedication and alarming enthusiasm.
There was, briefly, an interruption to this regime.
The woman twisted her back and was unable to move for over a week.
There are whispers this was caused by me taking up too much space in the bed.
This is ridiculous.
I am small.
My legs are the size of breadsticks.
Luke-man claims I have “Go-Go Gadget legs” and somehow expand overnight.
I deny all allegations.
The woman is now going to something called an osteopath, but insists it is worth it if it means I remain happy and in the bed.
Correct decision.
Vet Visit: Victory (With a Side of Concern)
At my most recent vet visit, the verdict was in:
My skin has improved significantly.
No antibiotics required.
The woman immediately told the vet not to judge my skin when we walked in, which may have influenced the outcome, but I choose to believe this was my doing.
However…
The vet noted that my breast cancer lumps have grown.
The woman sighed.
A big sigh. The kind that carries weight.
I stayed close to her.
We carry on.
Rain, Rain, Go Away (Because I Will Not Walk in It)
It has been raining.
This means:
No walks.
This is unacceptable, but also… I will not go out in the rain, so I see the dilemma.
To compensate, the woman has introduced a game called “Find It.”
This involves hiding carob treats around the house and expecting me to locate them using my nose.
Diary… I understand the concept.
I simply believe it would be more efficient if the carob were placed directly into my mouth.
We are working through this philosophical difference.
Visitors: A Performance of Excellence
The woman’s parents visited.
I delivered a flawless performance:
perfect smiles,
gentle tail wags,
strategic positioning for maximum pats,
and a small but successful crumb-hoovering operation.
They declared me “such a pretty lady.”
Correct.
Fashion: Winter Is Coming
A kind man the woman works with gifted me a beautiful waterproof winter jacket.
Diary… it fits like it was made for me.
Tailored. Elegant. Practical.
The humans are thrilled because it means I will have no excuse to avoid going outside in light rain.
I am less thrilled about this aspect.
Fortunately, it is not yet cold enough to enforce jacket usage.
I am enjoying this temporary freedom.
Closing Reflections
Routine has returned.
Balance has been restored.
The household once again revolves around me, as it always should have.
I am happy.
I am settled.
I am running the house with quiet authority.
And now that my humans are back where they belong — within immediate reach at all times — I look forward to many more adventures.
End of Entry.
Mission: Maintain Control. Maximise Comfort. Continue Being Adored.
Status: Stable, Happy, Back in Charge.
Sara
Queen of the Bed
Manager of Humans
Carob Connoisseur
Professional Late Sleeper