back-to-school blues

 Ah yes, the ol’ back-to-school blues. Not for me, of course—I’m always on break—but for Emma? Rough stuff.

She’s got that sniffly, run-down look that usually means fewer walks and more tea. 

I, Peanut, have not been adjusting well to post-holiday life. Why would I? I had the time of my life at the kennels. Freedom. Now she wants me back in a crate?! HA. No thank you. I bark like a dignified little gremlin to remind her that I am above such treatment.

Let me out, and what do I do? I run laps all night long.  Play ding dong door dash with Emma's bedroom door. I remind her that I’m still me. Adorable? Obviously. Exhausting? Also yes.

She tried putting my crate in the basement. Said something about "peace. Honestly? Bold move. But I’ll allow it—for now.

Joel’s coming over later, which I love. He’s good people. He brings snacks, and sometimes he sneaks me bits under the table. Right now, he’s off sledding like some kind of overgrown puppy. He asked about sleds, and next thing I knew, Emma was digging in the shed like she was on a mission from Santa. Found two yard-sale wonders and a couple of vintage numbers from Joel’s puppyhood. Love that for him.

Yesterday was snowy and sparkly—pure magic outside. I left exactly three paw prints and turned right back around. Too cold. Emma had to work (why humans do this voluntarily is beyond me), and the Wi-Fi broke. She cursed a little, then pressed buttons until it came back. 

She’s got new school stuff happening—seems nervous. No more seventh grade, which means more time for me (score!). She says she had a lot of ideas during break but now feels like her brain is  trudging through molasses. Happens to the best of us. Maybe if she took more naps, like someone I know, she’d feel better.

Anyway, I’m holding it down here at home. Guarding the soup. Barking at shadows. Being unbearably cute. It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.

Love (and loud, inconvenient barks),
🐾 Peanut