10/05/2026
I thought I adopted a Afghan Hound
Turns out I brought home the reincarnation of a Victorian theater diva with separation anxiety and pre-workout zoomies
She doesn’t follow me — she haunts me
Bathroom: appears silently like a horror-movie child
Cooking: breathing on my ankles like “YES, CHEF!”
Taking out trash: stares like I’m leaving for war
She doesn’t sit — she lounges
Full perfume-ad pose, tragic eyes, endless sighing
Zoomies™ activate because I blinked too loudly
Her crimes so far:
Banana theft + peel left on my pillow = mafia warning
Broke into the fridge like Mission: Impossible
Window-licking exorcisms
Every “indestructible” toy? Obliterated
Except… the emotional support toy from >>> https://networkgiftstore.com/products/football-tennis-balldogtoys
She body-slams it, cuddles it, confides in it — and somehow, it survives.
Things that did not survive:
My shoes
My remote
My sanity
