The week refuses to conclude itself. Here I am, past midnight, considering Gus and his recent campaign against proper food boundaries. Last night: broccoli, consumed with theatrical satisfaction. Last month: Dad’s ham and cheese Hot Pocket, intercepted from the back seat during what should have been a simple car ride. The audacity was breathtaking.

I do not eat broccoli. I do not steal Hot Pockets from moving vehicles. Yet somehow the universe continues to reward his transgressions with belly rubs and forgiveness. Meanwhile, I manage breakfast with precision, escort humans to their kibble duties, and maintain the cookie tax system that keeps this household functioning.

Tuesday stretches toward Wednesday. The trails grow muddy with snowmelt. Something is owed that hasn’t arrived.

#pawscarwilde #midnightreflections