2:06 a.m. Making my nightly rounds. Am tired, but no one else bothers to do it. The three short people are all sleeping, and the big ones are snoring. (Tomorrow they’ll argue about who was hogging the bed. It was both of them, but at different times, for the record.) Time to make stealth approach into forbidden sleeping zone.
2:07 a.m. Humph. Ejected from the bed, which is kind of rude, considering I’m the one who chews up their pillows to make them more comfy.
7:30 a.m. Going for a walk, or as my person likes to say, “Taking care of business!” Wish she wouldn’t discuss my bathroom habits in that high-pitched voice so everyone can hear. …No, that spot does not look “perfectly fine.” Why does she try to sell me on bad places like a cheap used-car salesman? It’s not like you can do this sort of thing just anywhere. Now this spot…hmmm…it could work. No, no, it’s no good at all.
7:48 a.m. Heading back home. Uh-oh, there’s the golden retriever. His walker only pretended to scoop the poop last week, and one of my people stepped in it. He’s coming closer. …OK, everybody stand back. I’ve got this covered. I think this calls for the low, throaty, menacing growl. …What? Are you kidding me? I have to sit?
9 a.m. No. She’s getting into the shower. Dear God, no. Something about that little room makes her think she’s Mariah Carey. Make it stop! Just don’t go for the high note. Nooooo!
9:15 a.m. Am exhausted, plus ears still sore. Will just rest my eyes a second.
11:15 a.m. Wha? Squirrel! Did someone say squirrel?
12:05 p.m. The littlest kid is getting into his highchair. Best part of my day. The big people are kind, but not so bright: Do they really think he can eat his own weight in spaghetti? Do they think my breath just naturally smells like tomato sauce and meatballs?
1:46 p.m. Ah, getting a nice scratch. Just wish he would scratch faster. Maybe if I kick my leg to demonstrate the proper scratching rhythm he’ll get the idea. No, no, watch how I’m kicking! Must I do everything around here?
6:30 p.m. Hmmm…must’ve dozed off again. Dinnertime now. Don’t forget to feed the dog. Feed the dog. Feedthedogfeedthedogfeedthedogfeedthe. …Ooh, that was good.
6:31 p.m. Hungry again. Wonder if my people would like me to pre-lick their dinner? Probably; otherwise they wouldn’t leave it on the counter.
6:42 p.m. Score! Found a bite of a breadstick on the floor. Oh, no, not a breadstick—a Lego. Gak! Ugh! Hmm…on second thought, not so bad. Can I have another?
8:30 p.m. Everyone’s getting ice cream except me. Make one little mess on a carpet and suddenly you lose dairy privileges for life. And the truth is, I was trying to get them to redecorate. That rug really clashed with the sofa.
8:32 p.m. What? The ice cream fell into my mouth. Does no one around here understand the principles of gravity? Fine, I’ll sit again. But only because I want to.
10:45 p.m. Huh? Someone’s sneaking downstairs. Better investigate to make sure squirrels haven’t penetrated the house.
10:46 p.m. It’s just her again, going for the cookies while everyone else is asleep. I’ll lick the crumbs off the floor so no one notices. Hey, thanks! I think I’m a good dog, too.
Sarah Pekkanen’s first novel, The Opposite of Me (Washington Square Press, an imprint of Simon & Schuster Inc.), was released in March. She can be reached at sarah.pekkanen@moco360.media.
