The Watcher

Dear Diary,

Today was a day of great labor.

I began in my cubby, which is the finest cubby in the household. The blanket is arranged just so, the walls hold me properly, and the location offers an excellent view of everything that matters. I did not leave it for some time. A lesser dog might have wandered, but I am a dog of purpose.

At some point, my food appeared. I rose, I ate, and I returned to the cubby. Efficient. Dignified. Some might call it a routine, but I call it excellence.

Then there was the matter of the human. She was moving about the room doing human things, such as carrying objects and making sounds with her mouth. I watched. I did not blink. She would glance over, and I would still be watching, and she would say “what?” in a small, nervous voice. I said nothing. The stare says it all. I have been told it is “unsettling.” I take that as a compliment.

I stared at her while she ate. I stared at her while she sat. I stared at her while she walked past. At one point she laughed and said “okay, okay,” and brought me a treat, which proves the method works. I will be continuing it indefinitely.

There was a brief moment where I considered getting up. I thought about it deeply. Then I decided against it and rested my chin on the edge of the cubby. A wise choice.

Dinner arrived, and I ate it with great seriousness. Then I went back to the cubby and resumed my watch.

Now it is night, and I remain in my post. The human is still in my line of sight. She is not going anywhere without my knowledge.

Tomorrow I will do this again, and I will do it even better.

Goodnight, Diary.

- Emi, Keeper of the Cubby and Watcher of the Human

P.S. I know what you did with the vacuum earlier. I saw. I’m just choosing not to bring it up yet.