By Lisa Laureta
Listen, I know what I said. I told you over and over again how much I wanted you to stay home. At times it was simply expressed through a wistful look as you grabbed your keys and headed out the door. Other times it was a tantrum thrown while you were away. I’m still sorry about eating that pink thing you always put inside you. I know you liked that one the most, which, honestly, at the time, was why I destroyed it. I will replace it. Anyhow, I realize all signs pointed to me never wanting you to leave my side, and I get that. I know that’s what I said. But this...this has to stop.
Hear me out, because I know I come off flaky here. I’m used to waking up in the morning, going on a walk, and going right back to sleep for what seemed like eternity but what you claim was only hours, whatever “hours” means. Now, I go on my walk, and instead of leaving, you stay. And that’s great, really. I like you. I like you very much. But when someone is used to going back to bed and is all of a sudden expected to give opinions on things like, “Did that email seem too aggressive or not aggressive enough?” I mean, it’s just, it’s a lot to expect from me.
It’s not that I’m not up for the job. I just wasn’t expecting to so suddenly be promoted to full time. I also feel I lack the proper training. Sure, I can perfectly execute a sit, and I’m working on my rollover but that’s a really tough one, I believe my trainer told you that. However, in all my schooling we’ve never gone over the do’s and don’ts of replacing all of our human’s societal interactions on a daily basis.
I didn’t want to mention this, but I don’t like harboring feelings. I don’t want to be in another Tik Tok. I’ve never been fond of cameras, and I know you think my giving you the side eye is cute but I feel like I’m not being heard.
I’m also not a chef. Did you use too much salt? No, there’s no such thing as too much salt and also I was mid nap. What are you doing at the stove, you’re never there? None of this makes sense.
All of this attention almost makes me miss the good old days. We had a great ritual, where you’d leave and I’d get “upset” and then I’d have a whole day! Now I can’t do that anymore because my day is your day and I don’t know what WFH means or why an “email” would make someone upset but can’t you tell I’M UPSET?! My tail hurts from wagging too much and I have cuddle sores, yes cuddle sores! I didn’t know it was a thing either, but here we are.
So basically, while I love being your dog, I didn’t expect it to be such a time and energy commitment. That’s why I’ve packed my squeaky wombat and a few bully sticks. I have to go. It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just not cut out for this. So if you wouldn’t mind, please open the door. Please? Here, what if I sit by it? No, not the leash, I don’t need another walk! My legs will literally break into pieces if I walk anymore! Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu------------