Thy Daily
Schedule.
The itinerary of a six-pound household executive. Ordinary dog routine, treated as the calendar of someone very important. Because she is. Just ask her.
A day in the edit.
Subject to revision. Usually upward.
Wake the household. Loudly. With purpose.
Demand breakfast. The audacity of delay.
Ding the bell.
Go outside.
Come inside.
Ding the bell.
Decide not to go outside.
Steal sock.
Squirrel surveillance.
Bully stick redistribution (Tupak's).
Ankle-based communication.
Lanai sunbathing. Ninja flooring. Poolside.
Nap in merged bed estate. Donut over rectangular.
Ding the bell. Attention only.
Lanai Grand Prix. Three laps minimum.
Audit laundry hamper. Relocate findings.
Dinner. Inspect human plates. Disapprove.
Final squirrel check. Front window post.
Slotho embrace. Lights out. Empire rests.
"I am a dog, but I have standards. And a schedule. The schedule is non-binding."
— Pixie, Editor-in-Chief