One of the things I've discovered recently is this whole unfair business of "getting older". Apparently I'm now considered an adult. I don't like this adult stuff, and I can totally see why Toast and Bleeder are angry all the time. Doing "adult" things is really hard.
I'm supposed to behave now. What is up with that? Nobody told me this was coming. A little warning would have been nice.
I'm not supposed to stomp on them any more. Something about it being cute and adorable when I was a smol pile of floof, but now that I weigh a bit more, standing on them seems to be out of the question, although I do it every morning anyway because I have to pee, they need to get up, I don't care if their alarm says they have 30 more minutes, my bladder does not.
They won't help me do things because they insist I have to learn how to do it myself. As if my lack of opposable thumbs doesn't come into play when opening bags of treats, or jars of tasty things, or opening doors.
For instance. I've enjoyed my pink bone for quite some time. Bleeder shoves tasty treats into the holes and then I gnaw on it. When I was tiny, I needed help and explained this by flinging it at Bleeder's head. As I got older, Bleeder would refuse to help me, explaining that I was a big girl now and needed to learn how to do it myself.
FINE! So I did. She was right, I wasn't working as hard as I should have been, so I decided to be the best "remove treats from my pink bone in the fastest time possible so Bleeder had to restuff it, therefore more treats for me" husky. I was killing it! That 15 minutes of solitude for Bleeder turned into 10, then 5, then almost immediate. I liked this gig. Treats, and treats, and treats. Even her stuffing it with cheese sticks, I sucked that cheese out in no time.
So, what happens? Not more treats, that's for sure... big red bone came into the house.
Granted, more treats fit into big red bone, but it's virtually IMPOSSIBLE to get them out without assistance! I mean what in the ever loving woo is this crap trick?
Yes, I'm trying to get them out by myself, but there comes a point where it can't be done. I'm not some gigantic bone crushing beast that can chomp down on this and squeeze the goodies out. I'm a delicate little flower of a husky. To make things worse, I'm gated off from the stairs so I can't fling it down to dislodge the goodies like my predecessor Meeshka used to do. This is foul!
The one bright side is that if I get a good head sling going, I can launch that thing straight at Bleeder and get her attention quickly to communicate that I'd like a bit of help.
| Stupid chair |
It's been a bit cooler out, but still too hot for me. I'm blowing my winter coat, so it's like wearing a winter coat in the summer, leave me alone I'll be on the air vent. Chase a ball? Absolutely not. I will play ring toss in the house though for maybe 2 throws and after that, I'm done.
So there's a lot of this
Some of this
And because there is an annoying salesperson that seems intent on getting Toast and Bleeder to come to the door (they have a hard/fast rule: if you aren't expected, you can knock until you die, nobody opens the door, even if you are literally dying on their porch), there is some of this... mainly because I'm watching you out there, and also because there's an air vent on that side of the couch.
Every once in a while I do like to go sundogging on the deck, only because when you come back inside it seems even cooler.
I'd like to point out that this is also 2 Sundays in a row where pancakes have not occured and I'm filing a grievance.
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