All I’m Asking For…

I like to think of myself as a no-frills kind of dog. I don’t ask for toys or chews or premium kibble. I don’t even remember the last time I hinted to Mom that I needed to go out and -well- relieve myself [which, granted, is mainly because I’ve started peeing behind the sofa in the study but whatever. What Mom doesn’t know won’t kill her].

And, sure, I sometimes throw a bit of a tantrum when my birthday/Christmas/any-festival-to-be-honest present hauls turn out to be measly, but apart from that, I’m an angel. Honestly, dogs like me don’t come along very often.

I don’t ask for fancy collars of gourmet biscuits; silk baskets or a robot assistant [OK, I might have asked for THAT last Christmas but I didn’t really mean it. And OK, maybe I refused to look at Mom and Dad for the next few weeks after I learned that they hadn’t gifted me one, but I was only joking. Obviously]; custom-made, YSL Halloween costumes or animal-friendly karaoke systems…

The one thing I DO ask for, however, the one thing I DEMAND, is being served my food on time.

That’s all I want.

And am I granted that common courtesy?? Does my so-called “family” do the one thing, the ONE thing, I beg them to do??

The answer is a exasperatingly loud and clear NO. No, they do not. They do not serve me my food before I am reduced to shimmying on the floor as a sort of “will-dance-for-food” routine. They do not bother feeding me until I have already starved half to death. It is mortifying and degrading and I do not appreciate it one bit.

Honestly, if I ever write an autobiography, copyright had better not stop me from titling it “The Hunger Games.” It had better not.

A Quick Update

Everything is back to normal around here and I couldn’t be more content if I tried. The family’s all settled in, the girls are recovering nicely from their first day at school after the holiday, [always a rude shock, isn’t it??]I’m slowly getting used to their sometimes-overwhelming presence…

This is the life.

We Are Family

They’re back!! And they bought me heaps of presents!! And I’m oh so relieved!!

To be honest, calling it a “heap” is a bit of an understatement; what they brought back for me is kind of like a toy factory, Pedigree-manufacturing unit and souvenir store all rolled in one!!

And that [believe it or not] isn’t even the best part. From the moment the girls entered the front door, they’ve been fussing and crying all over me, repeatedly proclaiming that they “missed me more than they miss waiting eagerly for the next Harry Potter” [which, I can assure you, is a compliment of the highest order -of the Phoenix- see what I did there??].

Really, it’s a wonder they left my side long enough for me to be able to dash off this post.

Ah, speak of the devil. If I’m not mistaken, they’re calling me downstairs for dinner [yum]. I’m COMING!!

You Don’t Think…

What if, even after spending TEN WHOLE DAYS in the City of Gifts [isn’t that what Singapore is also known as?? Probably not. Hey, I’m a DOG. It’s a blistering miracle I can even spell Singapore, forget know all of its nicknames!!], my family comes home empty-handed.

After all those Polaroids and all that anger, what if they return without a single souvenir for their precious pooch??

I mean, they WON’T. Obviously. However many times they’ve left me to fend for myself at home while they trotted across the globe, they’ve never not brought back something for me.

But there’s always a first.

It’d probably be a good idea to stop depressing myself with thoughts like these before I break another one of their antiques in the name of revenge [I lost count after the authentic didgeridoo I smashed against the kitchen wall].


I am BEYOND enraged, at the moment.

Not only is the family posting an inhumane number of holiday snapshots every hour [last time I checked, there were 7,916 photos. In FIVE days] but they have also “forgotten” to call!! Do you have ANY IDEA what this means?? Not only does it suggest that

  1. Taking 600 pictures a minute is more important to them than picking up the phone and calling their distressed dog [i.e, me].

But one could also say that it implies

2. They just don’t care [about me] anymore!!

Be right back, guys. Sobbing my partially-color-blind eyes out…

Salt In My Wounds

It’s been just seventeen HOURS since the family left for their Singapore “SLAYcataion” [slay is so 2014] and Dad has already posted 247 photos on Instagram. Talk about rubbing it in!! I mean, is it not enough that you haven’t taken your own DOG with you on holiday?? Do you ALSO have to chronicle every single second [including the airport toilet break. Honestly, no one needs to see that] and publish it on social media??

I think not.