Dear Diary,
Today’s forecast: cold, dark, and 100% chance of me refusing to move unless bribed with snacks. Seriously, it’s dark when we wake up, and then it’s dark again before I finish my third nap. Who ordered this nonsense? Not me.
Yesterday was chef’s kiss entertainment. Reggie decided to lick the empty metal water bowl outside. Guess what happened? Tongue. Stuck. Like a doggy Christmas Story. Dad had to rescue him, and now we have a plastic bowl. It’s the VIP hydration station. Dad brings it out when we go outside and snatches it back when we come in. Why? Because Reggie drinks like he’s training for a water-drinking contest and then redecorates the floor with his stomach contents. Classy.
Fashion update: Reggie and Arya have these fancy fleece jackets. They look like they’re headed to Aspen for a ski trip. Me? I’ve got this flannel thingamajig. It’s okay, but let’s be real—it screams “lumberjack chic,” not “runway ready.” Still, they complain: “It’s too cold out.” Yeah, no kidding, geniuses. We’re dogs. We pee outside. This is the worst business model ever.
Anyway, I’m going back to sleep now. Wake me up when the sun returns or when someone invents indoor grass.
— Willow 🐾