Greetings from the hill country of Tehas.
Karl here. German Shepherd. RV traveler. Former First Mate. Full time family protector.
The day began with an act of principle.
Breakfast was served.
I approached my bowl with optimism. With trust. With hope.
And then I saw it.
New food.
I do not know what Mom thinks she is trying to pull, but this particular selection is a hard no.
I sniffed it. I stared at it. I looked at Mom. I looked back at it.
I chose dignity.
Food strike.
I laid down nearby so everyone could reflect on their choices. Mom pretended not to notice. Classic move.
We are currently in negotiations.
The morning shakey pill situation went smoothly. I took it like a professional because taking my shakey pills is a top tier house rule. I have grand mal seizures. It is a brain glitch situation that can cause the big shakes if I do not stay on schedule. So we do not mess around with pill time.
After breakfast tension and responsible medical compliance, I spent the day monitoring the property and supervising general RV park activity.
Then evening arrived.
Dad fired up the grill outside the RV. I took my position beside him for perimeter duty. I generously entertained him with repeated ball retrieval services. It is one of his favorite things. I do it often because I am thoughtful like that.
I was retrieving near the mostly empty RV next door. Dad says that is the best kind of neighbor. Dad said it, so it is fact.
That is when I smelled it.
Cat.
Not regular cat.
Harness walking. Snooty. Suspicious. Funky. No good cat.
I sprug to action and executed a swift tactical return to Dad for strategic oversight.
Then something deeply confusing happened.
Dad and the Cat Man joked about me being afraid of the cat.
Afraid?
Surely I misheard. Possibly excess ear hair interfering with sound reception.
Everyone knows I am the noble protector of this family.
The creature eventually retreated to its lair. Order was restored. But let the record show, I remain on high alert.
Now for the invisible enemy.
The trees.
Apparently they have something called pollen. You cannot see it. They look innocent. I have inspected several. They appear normal. They are perfectly acceptable to pee on. I have verified multiple times and will reconfirm later.
And yet my crew is falling apart.
Sister has green boogers. It is alarming. Mom and Dad sneeze constantly. And me?
Itch.
Itch.
AND MORE ITCH.
I prefer to insert my foot into my ear for a thorough scratch session. However, this must be done discreetly. If Dad notices, he gets the wipe things and cleans my ears.
NOT good.
Then came evening pill time.
This is where I will make my stand!
Most days I take it like a responsible protector because shakey pills mean no bad shakes. No bad shakes mean more sun in Tehas. More wind in my fur. More ball retrieval. More guarding the grill. More life with my crew.
But tonight I voice my malcontent.
I accepted the treat. I cheeked the pill. Then I spit it out when Mom was not looking.
She called me a little turkey.
I laughed on the inside.
Unfortunately she is highly trained in pill redelivery. She retrieved it and placed it behind my back teeth in that little gap where escape is impossible.
I swallowed.
Temporary victory for her.
Moral victory for me.
Despite questionable breakfast decisions, rogue cats, airborne tree attacks, and pill based oppression, life in the hill country of Tehas is bright and windy and good nearly all year around.
I remain vigilant.
I remain itchy.
I remain firm in my breakfast standards.
I remain grateful.
Perimeter secure.
Karl out.