Hi. This is Kruger. I’m blogging for my mom tonight. She’s kind of tired and looks like she’s had a long day–plus, I decided it was time that I get to put my two cents in about this whole baby thing. I’m not much of a writer, but I’ve been taking notes. And since mom has decided to be on her computer every night around this time, I think I understand a little more about what this “blogging” ordeal is supposed to look like.

First, a little bit about me. Most days, I wake mom and dad up; they don’t seem to understand how important it is to eat and pee early in the morning (although mom’s been getting better at this throughout the night). I guess you could say I’m the go-getter in this house. Once everyone is up, we do things like brush our teeth and get dressed for work, and I follow mom and dad around for a while. When they leave, the house is quiet. I check on things, watch out the window and mostly, I take naps. It’s a rough life.

When mom and dad get home in the evening, I’m really ready for some good conversation. Sometimes we play with toys or take a walk in the neighborhood. Then, I always eat dinner at 6pm. If I don’t, I get kind of irritable. Punctuality is important, I say. For the rest of the night (at least lately), mom and dad do things to make big changes around the house. Now they keep me out of certain rooms and are always telling me I can’t lay on the plush new carpet. I hate that. What am I chopped liver? Wait. Did someone say “liver?” Yum.

Anyway, the other thing we always do now is talk about this “baby.” I’m not totally sure what all of that means, but I do know that mom’s always saying stuff like, “Kruger, where’s the baby?” and “Are you going to have a little brother or a little sister?” I’m confused about why this matters to me. Apparently there’s something in mom’s tummy (she sure is looking funny these days), but all I know is that I can’t play with said baby or sniff it or run around and have it chase me. I’m hoping this will change. I do think something’s about to happen, because mom is different, and dad seems different, too. I don’t know if I like it, but I’ll weigh in on that later.

So, yeah. I’m the dog of the house, and I used to be pretty convinced that my role was clear to everyone. Now, I’m not so sure. I still have my bed upstairs, and my other bed downstairs, and I still get treats for good behavior and for coming inside when they call me. (With the weather getting nice, though, it’s a tough choice.) I like my family (mostly when they’re scratching my ears or letting me lounge on the couch), but I think I deserve a vacation from all of this baby talk. I dunno. Something tells me it’s here to stay.

It’s time for me to bug the happy couple about going outside again. Don’t they know it’s 10pm?!

on the fence about change,

kruger (for mm)