I’ve made it through another night without pooping in my crate!

Today is the day—Emma’s garden party! She's been buzzing around the house like a very determined squirrel. She invited a few of her human friends (mostly from Christ the King and some neighborhood folks), and I’ve been supervising all preparations from our favorite sunny spot.

There’s still a lot to do. She keeps mumbling about trip hazards—paving gaps, garden hoses, soda placement. Frankly, I think she’s overthinking it. The backyard looks lovely, and I’d know—I patrol it daily. She’s got pizza, crackers, chips, dip, dessert, drinks… all vegetarian. (I strongly object to the lack of meat, but I suppose I can sneak some crumbs when no one’s looking.) Hopefully the sky cooperates and we don’t get rained out.

Now for the big news:
I’ve made it through another night without pooping in my crate! Emma seems very pleased. I slept in her room like a perfect gentleman, and it turns out—surprise—I actually like being close to her. Maybe I was protesting when I used to mess in my crate. Who knows. Am I a genius or a fool? Even I’m not sure.

 Emma keeps muttering about “only three weeks left” until she has to go back to work. I’m not sure what that means, but I do know that summer is special to her. It’s her time to float around in the yard, make necklaces, relax, and sometimes sleep late (though clearly not today). She says she’s really happy with her life right now, and I believe her. It makes me wag.

Now… let’s talk about yesterday.
I had to stay home.
Alone.
All day.
Emma went out gallivanting with Jennifer—without me! They went to their usual breakfast spot, Lincoln Square Pancake House (you know, the place that smells like heaven), and I was not invited. Then, if that betrayal wasn’t enough, they went to the art museum—again, no dogs allowed After the museum, she went to Aldi. 

Back home, the prep continued.
Emma cleaned the bathrooms, swept the floors, and rearranged her gnome armies. I’m serious—she split them into three colonies based on height and overall energy. It’s weird, but I respect it. Then we had dinner and went for a walk.

Now, here’s the part I don’t like:
The man with the enormous, shouty boxer dog was out. His dog barks like a banshee, and the man just stands there telling us how friendly the beast is. I barked back, naturally. Defending my lady. Later we picked up trash in the park, which is one of our shared hobbies. (I sniff, she grabs.) At the end of our patrol, we saw that guy again. Emma crossed the road and avoided walking near people she didn’t want to talk to. I could feel her nerves. She says it’s hard sometimes—living alone. She said she hopes she looks like the kind of woman who might have a husband with a gun. That’s her way of keeping the scary people away, I think. (Don’t worry. I’ve got teeth.)

Eventually, we made it back and curled up on the couch.
Our ritual resumed: we watched Orange Is the New Black together, with me curled up beside her like the best emotional support animal ever. I take my job seriously.

– Peanut 🐾