Today began with a very important stretch. I put my front paws forward, lifted my tail end into the air, and announced to the room that the day had officially opened for business. The humans saw this and said, “Big stretch!” which was technically accurate but not nearly official enough.
After breakfast I performed couch surveillance. This is where I lie down, look relaxed, and secretly track every sound in the house. A Mini Australian Shepherd may appear fluffy and decorative, but inside the fluff is a full operations department.
The humans kept walking past me like I was napping. I was not napping. I was listening to the hallway, monitoring the snack cabinet, checking whether Oski had moved, and keeping one paw available in case the floor needed me. If my eyes closed for a few minutes, that was simply advanced concentration.
At one point somebody opened a drawer. I rose immediately, because drawers often mean snacks, leashes, bags, or suspicious human decisions. It turned out to be socks. This was disappointing, but I stayed nearby in case the socks were part of a larger snack plan.
Oski made an appearance and did the younger-brother thing where he looks innocent while clearly standing in the middle of my work area. I gave him a look that said, “Please respect the office.” He did not respect the office. Still, he is family, so I allowed it after one ceremonial sigh.
By late afternoon I had earned a nap so serious that even my ears relaxed. The humans called me sleepy. Wrong again. I was recharging the patrol system. It was rufff work, but somebody has to keep this house from becoming unsupervised.