Mum’s been wobbly on her legs lately, so I’ve promoted myself to co-pilot. I sit in the passenger seat, ears in the wind, keeping morale high while she panics about things I don’t understand.
Here’s what confuses me: why do humans stress so much about things they can’t control? If I can’t catch the squirrel, I move on. If the biscuit bag is empty, I nap until it magically refills. Simple.
Also, if humans can eat all the treats they want… why don’t they? Seems like a missed opportunity, if you ask me.
Meanwhile, Mum is stabbing fabric with a pointy thing, over and over again and calling it fun. Which, fine. But what’s wrong with throwing a ball?
Anyway, my advice? Don’t overthink. Ride shotgun. Nap often. Eat the damn treats.
Signed,
Bugsy 🐾
