loyal, lap-hogging, dirt-sniffing shadow

 

Yesterday was big. I could tell from the moment Emma woke up—she was thinking. Not just normal thinking like “where’s the peanut butter?” No, this was the lots of staring off into space and muttering quietly to herself kind of thinking. I curled up next to her and offered my moral support via chin-on-knee. Classic move. Still works.

She wrote in her journal first thing in the morning. She’s been doing that a lot lately. Something about being the “center of her life” and learning not to take care of everyone else first. Honestly, I support that. I am a huge fan of belly rubs, but even I know you can’t pour treats from an empty Kong.

Anyway, after all that heavy morning stuff, we hit the garden. I supervised, of course. Emma was moving some plants around—especially one she called an “obedient plant.” I didn’t see anything particularly obedient about it, but sure. Her goal is to protect the little guys so they don’t get trampled. I liked the vibe. As usual, I got dirt on my nose. No regrets.

Then Emma got to work with that loud buzzing stick she calls a weed whacker. I do not love it. She’s letting the grass in the backyard grow wild, which is great for my sniffing adventures. She said something about creating shade. I don’t know what that means, but as long as I can keep my sunbeam naps, she has my full support.

Later, we walked to Becky’s house instead of going to the park. Total surprise! I was pumped. Becky made some kind of sneaky dessert that had vegetables in it, but it tasted sweet. I was skeptical, but Emma liked it, and I managed to snag a crumb, so… not bad. Brutus and I had a full-on standoff over Becky’s lap. Classic turf war. Emma was unusually still, which made it hard to choose whose knee to claim. I ended up rotating. Fair is fair.

In the evening, Emma got a little quiet. That’s the part of the day when she gets weird. She’s trying to change that though. Apparently, evenings remind her of some bad times from when she was little. But now it’s just me and her, and I’m not difficult. (Okay, I bark when the doorbell rings. But who doesn’t?)

She’s trying to make 4 PM “reading time” instead of “feeling weird time.” I like it. She sits on the porch with a book, and I chase shadows or nap nearby. We both win.

So that was the day. Full of thoughts, sunshine, weird desserts, and love. I don’t really understand all the big emotional stuff, but I do know this: Emma is trying. She’s changing. She’s being gentle with herself, even when things feel hard. And I’m here—her loyal, lap-hogging, dirt-sniffing shadow—for all of it.

Peanut 🐾