Dear Diary,
Happy Holidays! The humans have gone full “festive mode.” There’s a tree in the living room wearing shiny necklaces, and apparently, it’s not for peeing on. Missed opportunity if you ask me.
Arya and Reggie keep whining about how cold it is outside. Seriously? It’s winter, not the apocalypse. Meanwhile, I’m out here embracing my inner snow queen. Toughen up, furballs.
Now, about this hot pink jacket Mom got me… WHAT. IS. THIS. It doesn’t fit around me, and it makes me look like I swallowed a ham. I look like a bubblegum burrito. Mom says it’s “cute.” I say it’s a cry for help.
And Reggie? Still bouncing off the walls like he’s had three espressos and a Red Bull. Honestly, they should’ve named him Beavis. Every time he zooms past, I hear it in my head: “Settle down, Beavis!” If Santa sees this chaos, he’s skipping our house for sure.
Anyway, here’s hoping Santa brings me something better than a pink belly-squeezer. Maybe a steak. Or a jacket that doesn’t make me look like a holiday ham on legs.
—Willow 🎄🐾