There is a puppy here, now. Her name is “Lucy”.
I am doing all right, Diary, but it’s a very difficult transition for me.
I am usually the sole recipient of adoration in my house. Now their attentions are split. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t irritated.
“Lucy” evokes high pitched squeals for mundane acts like chewing on string.
They play this game called tug. Doesn’t look very dignified to me.
When the puppy’s been naughty, she gives this look, like she knows she’s been bad. It’s actually quite clever, because the humans coo over that, too.
I am being very tolerant in my opinion.
Well, Diary, that’s all for now. I’ll let you know how it’s going. Just between you and me and Josh N., I think Lucy might be growing on me.