Barnaby nervously adjusted his oversized glasses, eyeing the fluffball known as Princess Fluffybutt the Third. His friend, Penelope, was off to a vegan cheese convention (don’t ask), and Barnaby, bless his cotton socks, had agreed to dog-sit.
“Now, Barnaby,” Penelope instructed, pointing a manicured finger, “Princess only eats organic salmon pâté, served at precisely 7 pm, and requires a 30-minute interpretive dance session afterwards.”
Barnaby gulped. “Interpretive dance?”
“Think modern ballet meets a frustrated squirrel,” Penelope chirped, handing him a tiny tutu. “Good luck! Text me updates!”
The first day was chaotic. The salmon pâté splattered everywhere. The interpretive dance involved Barnaby chasing Princess around the living room, flapping his arms and making squirrel noises. He texted Penelope: “Dog. Exquisite taste. Slightly…theatrical.”
Day two was worse. Barnaby discovered Princess had a penchant for burying his socks in the garden and a surprising talent for opera (mostly howling at the vacuum cleaner). He texted: “She’s… gifted. Vocally. And a kleptomaniac re: hosiery.”
Finally, day three arrived. Exhausted, Barnaby decided to treat himself to a nap. He drifted off, dreaming of silent libraries and dogs that didn’t demand salmon. He awoke to a frantic barking. Princess was gone!
Panic set in. He searched everywhere, finally finding her in the kitchen, happily gnawing on a box of crayons. Relieved, he snatched the crayons away.
Then Penelope called. “Barnaby! How’s my little angel?”
Barnaby, covered in crayon dust and smelling faintly of fish, sighed. “Well, Penelope, let’s just say she’s been… expressing herself. But I think I’ve finally cracked the code to understanding her every need. The only thing is… I think I need a dog-sitter too.”
There was a pause. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Barnaby said wearily, “Princess has trained me to fetch her water, dance on command, and she’s started leaving little… brown crayon sculptures on my pillow. I’m not sure who’s really in charge here. Dog-Sitting Disaster: Who’s really #1? I think it’s pretty clear.”
