Sometimes on Saturday, after our lunatic brother breaks protocol at the park and runs onto the field in the middle of a Little League game and we get caught up in the hysteria and follow him for one second and no more, we like to burrow under a blanket of regret and beg our mother for forgiveness, hoping she’ll understand that the whole situation was simply too intoxicating to ignore.
Yours In Oh No,
Sometimes on Saturday, after we team up with our short man sibling and successfully harangue our mother into taking us on a 6 AM romp in the park, we like to spend the rest of the morning relaxing in bed, processing the fact that we will never have purely one-on-one snuggles again. And we’re kind of okay with that.
Sometimes on Saturday, after we ambush Larry the gentlemanly pug who has accompanied his father, one of our parents’ favorite humans, for a nice visit, our mother relegates us to the upstairs by using the laundry hamper and a pile of pillows as a barricade to keep us from creating further discord.
Sometimes on Saturday, after a sudden downpour ruins our chances for a carefree bowel movement on our morning walk, we like to squish ourselves into the creases of the living room sofa while periodically making sure to open our eyes in order to keep track of our mother.
Yours In Constant Surveillance,
Oren the Observer
Sometimes on Saturday, after a failed attempt at getting our little brother to shut up by attacking him, we like to remove ourselves from the situation and wait for our mother to join us in our silent protest until she gives us the opportunity to share our grievances.