How my dog reacts to my day

If you ever want to feel like a celebrity and a criminal at the same time, get a dog. I step out of the house for five minutes to grab milk.

My dog: You abandoned me. I almost died. You’re back now, I forgive you. Cue tail wags, dramatic zoomies, and enough licking to qualify as a facial. But if I stay home all day, working quietly at my desk?

My dog: You again? You’re always here. Go do something with your life. He ignores me completely, only acknowledging my existence when the treat jar rattles. Try to nap during the day? My dog: Clearly, you're dying. Let me sit on your chest and stare until you move again. He means well. I think. And if I come home smelling like another dog?

My dog: Traitor. I need space. He sulks. Won’t make eye contact. Passive-aggressively chews a sock.

But no matter how my day goes, whether I’m tired, grumpy, or stressed, he’s always there. With a tail wag. With a toy. With a look that says, "You’re my person, and that’s enough."

Dogs are weird. And perfect. And totally over the top. But honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.