My human lies there, even though I’ve been standing near the bed whining sweetly for at least three minutes. Finally he gets up, sighs, and says, “Could’ve slept in longer this weekend.” Well yes, but I want to go outside!
I trot to the front door to wait while he gets dressed like he’s in a slow-motion movie. Move those joints, buddy. After an eternity, we’re outside. The sun’s shining, birds are singing, glorious scents of pee everywhere—this is living 😊
The only downside is my human keeps asking, “Aren’t you gonna poop yet?” Nope. Eventually, he gives up, and we head home. I’m already thinking about breakfast—hoping there’s still some of that smoked ham from yesterday, it was amazing. Kibble? Not happening. Unless there’s cheese sauce.
Once we get home, I sprint to my empty food bowl like it’s urgent business. As always, I have to wait for my human. Now he’s wiping muddy pawprints instead of feeding a small starving dog. He has no grasp of priorities. I sigh deeply.
Finally, he comes to the kitchen and puts my favorite meal in the microwave. More waiting. But then—the sweet smell of ham floods my nostrils as the fridge opens. Maybe this will be a good day.
And then, horror strikes. The teenage boy emerges from his cave into the kitchen. A creeping dread fills me. I stare at him, praying: don’t say it, don’t say it… But of course, fate is cruel. He looks at my human, opens his mouth, and says the words I feared: “I already gave him breakfast a couple of hours ago when we came in.”
Crap. No second breakfast.
My human gives me the death stare and yells “AGAIN!!!” I slink into the living room, trying to look as innocent as possible.
Life is hard.
English (UK) 
Suomi