Dear Diary,
I would like to formally announce that my energy levels are currently set to “unhinged squirrel on espresso.” I have not been on a walk in what feels like an eternity. Possibly years. Possibly since the dawn of time. Hard to say. Time has lost all meaning.
As a result, I have taken it upon myself to personally supervise every sound in this house.
Floor creak? BARK.
Someone breathes too loud? BARK.
The refrigerator thinks about turning on? ABSOLUTELY BARK.
Mom and Dad have also made the questionable decision to use the bathroom today. Let me be very clear: this will not be tolerated. Any movement toward standing up, sitting down, or existing behind a closed door results in immediate growling. Not angry growling. Just… concerned, deeply judgmental growling. Someone must keep order.
Since walks are apparently a myth right now, I’ve had to redirect my energy productively.
- I bark at squirrels through the window. They deserve it.
- I harass the cats, because they are smug and walk around like they pay rent.
- Ace has finally had enough of my nonsense and has started fighting back, which I respect.
We now have full-on wrestling matches on the carpet. Rolling. Grunting. Play growls. Occasional dramatic flops. The carpet has become our arena. The cats watch from higher ground, judging us like referees who hate fun.
Despite all this chaos, I remain hopeful.
I dream of future walks. Long walks. Walks where I sniff everything. Walks where I pretend I’m tired halfway through but secretly could go another mile. Walks where squirrels see me coming and tremble.
Until that glorious day arrives, I will continue my duties: Guard the house.
Police bathroom activity.
Wrestle Ace.
Bark at invisible threats.
Annoy the cats.
It’s exhausting being this energetic.
Respectfully, Reggie
(Still waiting. Still barking.)