#aryathedog

Dear Diary, Everyone knows I’m the tough guy around here. I am large. I am intimidating. I take nonsense from absolutely nobody. Dogs respect me. Cats respect me. The squirrels outside definitely respect me. (If they don’t, they should.) Which is why what happened last week makes absolutely no sense. — It started during one of my daily surveillance missions. I climbed onto the couch…

Dear Diary, Today I would like to discuss an important safety topic. Never. Ever. Sleep near Willow’s tail. I know what you’re thinking. “Arya, surely it can’t be that bad.” Oh, my sweet, innocent reader. It is worse. Far worse. — The day started perfectly. I found a warm spot on the couch next to Willow. She was asleep. I was sleepy. The couch was comfy. The birds were chirping…

Dear Diary, I am exhausted. Completely exhausted. The kind of exhausted where you stare at a wall for twenty minutes and forget what you were doing. The strange part is… I have no idea why. Dad looks tired too, so naturally I have concluded that whatever is wrong with Dad is also wrong with me. I am basically a doctor. Today started with the Great Sleeping Event of 2026. Everyone stayed in…

Dear Diary, I have become aware that some members of this household believe I am “overprotective” of Dad. I would like to officially state that these accusations are completely unfair. I am not overprotective. I am simply protecting what belongs to me. And Dad belongs to me. This is a completely normal arrangement. Every morning I make sure Dad is properly supervised. If Dad sits down, I…

Dear Diary, Apparently I have been receiving complaints. According to Dad, Arya, Willow, the cats, several neighbors, and possibly local air traffic control, I have been barking “a little too much.” First of all, I’d like to say that these accusations are wildly exaggerated. Second of all, if they aren’t exaggerated, I have very good reasons. For example, this morning Dad came…

Dear Diary, I am deeply concerned about Dad. Not because he’s sick. Not because he’s injured. But because I recently learned that he voluntarily goes to a place every day that appears to be approximately one hundred and fifteen degrees Fahrenheit. I have seen photographic evidence. There is a thermometer. The thermometer does not lie. The thermometer says Dad works inside a giant…

Dear Diary, I am deeply concerned about Dad. Not because he’s sick. Not because he’s injured. But because I recently learned that he voluntarily goes to a place every day that appears to be approximately one hundred and fifteen degrees Fahrenheit. I have seen photographic evidence. There is a thermometer. The thermometer does not lie. The thermometer says Dad works inside a giant…

Dear Diary, I am reaching my limit. The conditions around here have become unacceptable, and if they do not improve immediately, I will be forced to begin filing official complaints. I am not sure who receives dog complaints. Maybe Dad. Maybe the Neighborhood Association. Maybe the United Nations. But somebody needs to hear about this. First of all… IT IS TOO HOT TO WALK. How is that…