Chores

 Everyone has chores to do, and I'm not exempt from this, for some odd reason.

Toast keeps telling me that I'm responsible for fetching his socks when I want to go outside. I'm not sure how this is possible since I'm not allowed to even look at the dresser where the socks are since the "incident", but he keeps insisting it is part of my "chores".

They won't even let me sniff the lawnmower (even after they run over some form of tasty creature), and yet I'm reminded that they do it "for me". I'm not the one complaining about picking up my poo in longer grass, and for the record, I never requested they even pick up my poo, they just do it and have some kind of pathological need to remark on its firmness, consistency, texture, and size. I just poop and scratch the ground happily and move on with life. You don't see me trying to size up their poop in the water fountain and handing them a cookie.

Pick up my toys? Why? I'm not done with them. They haven't been ripped to tiny shreds and strewn throughout the house, so they're fine right where they are. If the stupid vacuum robot can't handle it, let it go around or choke on the stuffing. I'm tired of it trying to run me over when I'm napping.

Since it is so hot out, I prefer my water be frozen and ground up in tiny chunks that I can chew on. Is it too much to ask of Bleeder to keep checking my ice chip bowl and refill it? Once again, I'm not allowed to operate the water/ice dispenser because some earlier dog decided to help themselves to ALL of the water and flooded the kitchen. I don't see Toast chastising Bleeder for neglecting my ice chip needs.

Also, Toast hasn't been toasting lately, and the bread products he does share is pathetic. I have to lay there with the big eyes far too long between bites.

Hey! scone me!

So, what are my actual chores? Well, when I need to go outside, the moment Bleeder or Toast walk toward their pile of outdoor shoes, I stand over the shoes.

Is there something you are waiting on?

If both are going out, I have to make a quick determination on who is closest to the shoes for blocking, and then skitter over to block the other once I'm pushed out of the way. They really seem to enjoy this game. I would also like to add that if we are ALL going outside, I will stand and wait for the door to be opened even though I have a dog door. Due to my condition and the fact that unsupervised I will chase and eat all manner of bugs and horrible things that will cause my condition to be conditioned, I am under full supervision outside. I think it's quite cruel that Bleeder sometimes refers to me as Trash Panda. My palette is limited to only the finest and tastiest bugs, bees, hornets, wasps, anything that moves.

I'm the official calibrator for Toast's scale. Every morning he weighs himself. Just gets up on the scale and does it and receives no cheese for doing it... I don't understand humans. I'm weighed every Saturday in an event called Weigh Cheese, which includes cheese. After my Saturday morning constitutional, I come inside for weigh cheese and dutifully sit on the scale (my scale, not Toast's scale) and get my cheese. I try to botch the reading (sneak a foot off or move too fast) so we have to take multiple readings and I get multiple cheeses. It is none of your business how much I weigh, how rude.

I don't think it's correct, we need another round of cheese

But I digress, back to Toast's scale, it needs to be calibrated every day... according to me, so I stand on it to gain a tad bit of height in hopes that one day I will be able to reach the snack shelf... I mean calibrate it. It's one of those fancy shmancy scales that send the weight and other numbers to an application, so I guess Toast isn't very keen that in random places it appears that he's down to 25lbs on any given day. Go figure.

My best chore is Sous Chef. If anyone is cooking anything, I'm there to make sure they have whatever they need and clean up any messes. The best place to lay is in front of the dishwasher because it is central, and the best place to be to catch spills as they go into the tasty dishwasher. 

I also lay in front of the oven while they try to cook. I am smart enough to move away when the oven mitts come out, or if I'm told "Danger" because that usually means something not good, but quickly snap back to position the moment the all clear is given. I look at it like a cooking aerobics session, where high stepping and shifting is required to navigate the countertops. Work that upper and lower back by LEAAAAAANING over me to reach the chopping board, now high step over my head to stir something on the stove.

So, I feel that I do enough around the house and should not have any additional duties.