This morning I took my humans on a very efficient neighborhood walk. I sniffed the same rosemary bush four times because the report kept updating. They called this “stalling.” Wrong. It was research. A mini Australian Shepherd cannot file an accurate squirrel memo on rushed conditions.
Back home I inspected every toy in the basket and pulled out Mr. Lobster for advanced squeak testing. Oski tried to help by sitting on him, which was not helpful. I explained this politely with three sharp boofs and one dramatic stare. Humans said, “Use your inside voice, Max.” That was my inside voice.
Later I absolutely crushed sit, down, touch, and wait. I waited so hard. I waited with my eyebrows. The reward cookie arrived after what I calculate was seven business years, but I accepted it with grace. I also opened negotiations for a second cookie and was told I had “already been paid.” Very concerning bookkeeping.
This afternoon I supervised the laundry parade from the bed, took a strategic nap in a sun square, and then alerted the house to a suspicious backyard clink. Maybe a fence. Maybe a bird. Maybe the universe needing me specifically. My humans looked outside, saw nothing, and said, “Max, it’s okay.” It was not okay. It was merely unresolved.
