Dog Diary Entry - The Return of Bathtime
Working Title: “I Have Invented Several New Games and the Humans Continue to Participate Voluntarily.”
Mission: Keep the humans entertained, mildly confused, and permanently wrapped around my tiny little paw.
Status: Exceeding expectations.
Dearest Diary,
Life continues to be absolutely marvellous.
I have reached a stage in my reign where there are fewer medical dramas and more opportunities to focus on what truly matters:
inventing increasingly inconvenient games for the humans.
They seem to enjoy them almost as much as I do.
A Royal Visit
This week I travelled to visit the Woman's brother at his home.
Unlike my palace, his residence does not come with an enormous backyard.
Instead, he lives in something called a unit, which I have determined is simply a very tall house where everyone's backyard is stacked on top of each other.
The best part is the balcony.
Diary...
When I stand out there and gaze over the world below, ears gently flapping in the breeze, I feel positively majestic.
Like Mufasa.
Except smaller.
And with considerably better skin.
I stood there surveying my kingdom while the humans fussed over me.
The Woman's brother gave me treats.
He gave me pats.
He told me I was beautiful.
I already knew these things, but it is always nice to hear confirmation.
I hope I get to visit him again soon.
An Unexpected Side Effect of Being Too Loved
The Woman has recently discovered a tiny bald patch right on top of my head.
Naturally, she was concerned.
After much investigation, however, she has concluded that the cause is almost certainly excessive affection.
You see, between Luke-man and the Woman, the top of my head receives approximately 4,000 kisses per day.
Every time they walk past they stop, kiss me, inhale dramatically, and announce:
"What a beautiful lady."
"Who's a good girl?"
"You're so precious."
At this rate I fear I may eventually become entirely bald through admiration alone.
A sacrifice I am willing to make.
The Back Door Game
I have developed a fascinating new pastime.
The rules are simple.
The humans go outside.
I stay inside.
Then I sprint to the back door.
The humans, ever attentive to my needs, immediately stop whatever they're doing and rush over to open it.
The instant the door opens...
I turn around.
And run away.
Sometimes I don't even look back.
The Woman calls after me.
Luke-man laughs.
The door closes.
Two minutes later...
I run back.
The door opens.
I leave again.
Diary, I am currently trying to determine exactly how many times this cycle can repeat before the humans begin questioning their own sanity.
So far, the answer appears to be:
more than twenty.
To be clear, I don't actually want to go outside.
The backyard is perfectly nice, but unless bathroom business is involved, I much prefer indoor luxury.
The real outdoors is reserved for walks.
Everything else is merely decorative.
Operation: Surprise Laundry Attack
I have also perfected another game.
I wait patiently until one of the humans walks past the bedroom.
Then...
I explode into action.
I race into the room at full speed.
Leap triumphantly onto the pile of clean laundry.
Spin around.
And immediately sprint back out again before hiding behind the nearest corner.
When the human walks past...
RAH!
I leap out.
They laugh every single time.
This is excellent because I was beginning to worry humans weren't trainable.
The only downside is when they actually put the washing away.
I strongly oppose this policy.
Laundry belongs on the floor.
Preferably underneath me.
Dinner Negotiations
Progress has also been made regarding meal etiquette.
I now understand that if I refrain from stealing the humans' dinner...
I receive my own special treat afterwards.
It is a wonderful arrangement.
Occasionally the Woman forgets.
Fortunately, I have found my voice.
One bark usually reminds her.
The other night she made something called chicken noodle soup.
Diary...
It looked spectacular.
Steam floated upward.
The aroma filled the house.
She looked away for approximately 1.3 seconds.
I considered this an invitation.
I moved in.
Unfortunately, she intercepted me before I could sample the goods.
She explained that it wasn't because I couldn't have the soup...
it was because it was far too hot.
I accepted this explanation.
Mostly because I still received my after-dinner treat anyway.
The State of My Royal Skin
On a more serious note, I continue to visit my special vet every month.
The humans make sure I'm checked from nose to tail and that I'm always comfortable.
Recently the vet found a tiny spot of skin cancer on my belly.
He wasn't overly worried and said it's something we'll simply keep an eye on.
It isn't nearly as progressed as my breast cancer.
The Woman nodded quietly.
Then she rubbed my ears the whole drive home.
I leaned into her hand.
Because that's what we do.
The good news is that my skin itself has come such a long way.
When I first arrived, Diary, I scratched constantly.
I couldn't settle.
I couldn't properly rest.
The humans watched helplessly while I tried to itch every part of myself at once.
Now?
Things are different.
My meals are carefully chosen to support my skin.
Apparently they're rich in something called Omegas.
I get regular baths.
My dry spots are massaged with soothing lotions almost every day.
The Woman spends so much time moisturising me that I suspect she thinks she's restoring antique furniture.
And you know what?
It works.
I scratch less.
I sleep more.
I smile constantly.
Life feels softer now.
The Return of Bath Time
Unfortunately...
with healing comes consequences.
My leg wound has finally recovered.
Which means...
the baths are back.
This afternoon I was ambushed.
One moment I was minding my own business.
The next I was suspiciously clean.
I made my feelings very clear.
The Woman acknowledged my outrage.
She agreed that I was entitled to be annoyed.
Then she pointed out that after baths I barely scratch at all and seem much more comfortable.
I hate it when she uses logic against me.
The Humans Have Been Home
For the past week the humans have been off this mysterious thing called "work."
I have therefore enjoyed uninterrupted access to:
belly rubs,
cuddles,
walks,
snuggles,
conversations,
quality assurance inspections of everything they're doing,
and approximately seventeen thousand compliments.
It has been delightful.
That said...
I suspect I'll also be happy when they return to work.
Because while they think they're keeping me company...
they're actually interrupting my sleeping schedule.
When the house is quiet, I can spend entire days curled up in the giant bed under blankets, dreaming glorious dreams of chasing rabbits, stealing chicken soup and covering every clean sock in my own special perfume.
Final Thoughts
Life isn't perfect.
There are vet visits.
There are baths.
There are lumps that need watching and skin that needs caring for.
But there is also love.
The kind of love that checks my ears every day.
That warms my belly with blankets.
That moisturises my elbows before bed.
That kisses the top of my head so often I've started losing fur there.
The rescue gave me this chance.
The humans embraced it.
And together they've shown me that growing old doesn't mean adventures have to stop.
Sometimes it just means the adventures involve balconies, laundry piles, warm beds and very patient people who will open the same door twenty-seven times because they think you might want to go outside.
(Even when they know you don't.)
End of Entry.
Mission Status:
Extremely Comfortable.
Exceptionally Loved.
Still Running the Household.
Sara
Queen of the Balcony
Laundry Quality Control Inspector
Headland Celebrity Emeritus
Professional Door Troll
And Supreme Commander of Human Interruptions 🐾