It's A Dog's Life · Take TWO · Woof Humor

It’s A Dog’s Life

One of the most asked questions on my website is ‘How is it like being a dog??’ [OK, I just made that up, because the truth is, I have had ZERO questions featured in my comments section and the only reason I’m even doing this post because it was the only idea I had for an entry today. Sue me]

Well, if you had a similar question in mind, today’s your lucky day, because I’m doing a “Day In The Life Of…” post. Hopefully, it won’t get too boring and I won’t run out of material [because, let’s face it; dog’s don’t really have the most exciting lives. I mean, all we do is lick our you-know-whats and fantasize about food…]

Unfortunately for you, I’m not a typical dog. I mean, I can BLOG, for Pete’s sake!!  I can understand human dialogue, I can use my parent’s iPad [the only obstacle being how my fur gets lodged onto the screen and just WON’T come off. But that’s a small price to pay for being able to play Fruit Ninja all day long], I can string together a few words to form a sentence [in my mind, at least. Thanks to my floppy tongue, though, I can’t VERBALIZE my expertly-crafted sentences].

So let’s get cracking!!

We begin in the afternoon, which is usually when I wake [WHAT?? Teenagers can be lazy all they want and get away with it because of stupid hormonal changes but a DOG who happens to work extremely hard throughout the night and therefore wakes up a wee bit late in the morning is considered a lazy bag of potatoes?? JUDGEMENTAL, much??]. Of course, the rest of the family has woken up much, much before me and the house is buzzing with action. Usually, the kids are at school, so it’s just Mom and Dad and me.

One upside to waking up devastatingly late every single day is that your breakfast is ready for you to devour from the moment you stir from your slumber, so the first activity I indulging upon rising from the temporary dead is shoving my face with my morning’s share of kibble [this is a lot more romantic and sensual than how I’ve described it in the last few words].

Of course, this leaves me feeling stuffed and heavy [which is basically how I feel most of the time], so I somehow prod myself to take a trot a few rounds around the living room and convince myself that this is enough exercise for the rest of the day. I basically continue to do nothing in particular ‘til around 06:30 pm, which is when Mom AND Dad leave the house for their daily, 5 mile-long jog.  They stay out of the house for about an hour, which gives me more than enough time to log into the family computer and blog blog blog ❤ [of course, by “blog” I mean “occasionally blog and spend most of my internet time stalking celebrities on Twitter”].

The fact that both my siblings are at home by the time I begin my online escapades is barely a hindrance, considering how they just lock themselves up in their respective rooms from the moment they come back from school. The rest of the house could be violently burglarized by a circus elephant and Kathryn and Taylor wouldn’t even KNOW.


The moment I hear the front door being unlocked, I bolt [well, my version of bolt, which is a mix between a crawl and a very slow run] to the hall and make myself as sparse as possible for a while. This is not easily accomplishable, owing to my –ahem- LARGENESS, but I manage it most of the time anyway.

I try to hide because this period of time, between when Mom and Dad come back from their jog and dinner, is when the fireworks take place. Now, I’m NOT talking about the spectacular Catherine Wheels and Roman Candles and pyrotechnics that beautify our sky on the 4th of July. Oh, no. I’m talking about temper tantrums, rude outbursts, harsh back answers and the rest that comes with being a parent of two rebellious girls.

Of course, I live in one of the most loving families I know, and these outbreaks don’t last very long. Two minutes after Kathryn says something scathing to her parents [or vice versa], they’re back to cuddling and hugging and all sorts of mushy madness [kind of like a messy relationship].

Later at night [around 08:15, maybe], the family chows down on one of Mom’s delicious homemade meals [not that I KNOW they’re delicious. I’m just judging by the… aromas. Yes, the aromas. It’s not like I was the one who wiped out all those platters of kebabs and that bowl of dip that Mom prepared for her annual Easter party. Like as IF].

The kids pour me MY dinner soon after [and sometimes give me a little extra Pedigree. Shh!! Don’t tell Mom!!], and then waddle upstairs for Mom to come and tuck them in [it really is true; you never grown out of Mom’s goodnight lullabies, however “grown-up” you get].

After wolfing down the last dog-friendly cube, I follow suit and shuffle upstairs and manage to catch the last few notes Mom sings in her satiny voice. Twirling round and round ‘til I’m satisfied with my position under Taylor’s bed, I lower myself to the ground [a dodgy task in itself, bearing in mind my bulkiness] and proceed to catch about eighteen hours of blissful shut-eye.

There you have it!! Feni Skarr’s daily routine, down in black and white!! Not quite as eventful as you were expecting, huh?? Well, what’s life without a few let-downs, right??


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