The DOG that BLOGGED

Pommy wasn’t always this…burdened. There was a glorious time, a year ago, when life was sheer, unadulterated bliss. Jackie, her human, was a goddess of treats, belly rubs, and sunbeam-napping allowances. Every scratch behind the ears felt like a blessing, every new squeaky toy a miracle. Pommy, a fluffy Pomeranian with a perpetually surprised expression, thought she’d won the cosmic lottery.

Then, the love escalated.

It started subtly. The organic, grain-free kibble soon became hand-chopped, slow-cooked, free-range chicken, served on a crystal dish. The occasional walk turned into designer leash-and-collar ensembles for daily “fashion strolls.” The belly rubs became full-body massages with lavender-scented oils, followed by pawdicures.

By month six, Pommy’s day involved compulsory “enrichment activities” like listening to classical music Jackie insisted it improved canine intellect), attending doggy yoga (Pommy preferred napping), and being dressed in a new, seasonally appropriate outfit every single day. A tiny fedora for Tuesday, a sequined tutu for Wednesday, a miniature raincoat for Thursday – even if the sun was blazing.

“Oh, Pommy-Wommy!” Jackie would coo, holding her up to her own face. “Are you enjoying your holistic blueberry facial? You’re just the sweetest little angel, aren’t you? Yes, you are!”

Pommy would sigh, a low, frustrated rumble that Elara invariably interpreted as blissful purring. She was suffocating under the weight of Jackie’s affection. She missed muddy puddles, the exhilarating scent of a fresh fox scat, the simple dignity of scratching herself without a human gasping, “Is my precious baby allergic to something? Let’s check the holistic vet!”

The final straw came when Jackie bought a custom-made, four-poster bed for Pommy, complete with satin sheets and a tiny, monogrammed pillow. It was opulent. It was ridiculous. Pommy just wanted to curl up on the cool kitchen tiles.

One particularly suffocating afternoon, while Jackie was out “sourcing organic, ethically harvested dental chews,” Pommy found herself staring at the glowing screen of Jackie’s laptop. She’d watched Jackie type many times, her paws occasionally skittering across the keyboard in playful desperation. Today, the desperation was real.

With a determined leap and a series of clumsy, surprisingly effective paw-strokes, Pommy began to type.

THE OVER-LOVED CANINE: A Blog of Woes

Post 1: HELP! I’m Drowning in Cuddles! By Pommy (AKA Prisoner of Pampering)

Woof. I mean, hello. My name is Pommy. And my human, Jackie, loves me too much. I know, I know. You’re thinking, “Lucky dog!” But let me tell you, fellow canines, there is such a thing as too much.

Today, she tried to teach me DOG YOGA. I looked more like a defeated potato. Then she dressed me as a tiny pirate. I just wanted to chase a squirrel. Is that so much to ask? My paws are so soft from all the moisturiser I can barely grip the floor. SEND BISCUITS. REAL BISCUITS. NOT ORGANIC QUINOA-FLAX SEED BITES.

End Transmission (for now. My paws hurt from typing.)

Pommy published the post, then promptly curled up on the cold floor beneath her ridiculous four-poster bed. She felt… lighter.

To her utter astonishment, the next day, there were comments. Lots of them.

@GrumpyGus_Lab: FINALLY! Someone gets it! My human won’t stop throwing the ball. My shoulder is sprained. I just want to nap.

@MischiefMinnie_Terrior: O.M.G. Pommy! Same! My human buys me a new squeaky toy EVERY DAY. My ears are bleeding. I dream of silence.

@DuchessDoodle_Poodle: You think that’s bad? I have to wear a different bow in my topknot for every Zoom meeting! And the TREATS. They’re “homemade granola clusters”! I miss real bacon.

Pommy’s blog, “The Over-Loved Canine,” caught fire. Her raw, honest accounts of the indignities of extreme pampering resonated deeply within the hidden digital canine community. Her post, “The Horror of the Hydro-Therapy Spa Day,” went viral, complete with a blurry photo of a distraught Pommy attempting to escape a bubbly jacuzzi. Humans, initially thinking it was a joke blog by a particularly eccentric dog owner, began to share it. Soon, news channels picked up the story, marveling at the “insightful” and “hilarious” perspective of a “dog blogger.” Jackie, blissfully unaware of her furry friend’s online escapades, just thought it was wonderful that Pommy was “inspiring so many people.”

The floodgates opened. Everywhere, dogs (with varying degrees of successful typing skills, often aided by opportune moments and a lot of drool on keyboards) began creating their own blogs:

“The Ball-Obsessed Human: A Golden Retriever’s Guide to Ignoring Endless Fetch” by Buddy

“Snort, Grunt, Nap, Repeat: Why My Pug Life Isn’t So Easy” by Penelope

“The Underexcited Collie: My Human Won’t Give Me a Job (Or Stop Talking in Baby Talk)” by Shadow

“My Hooman is Obsessed with My Floof: The Daily Brushdown Diaries” by Sir Reginald Fluffybottom III, Esq. (a Persian cat who occasionally guest-blogged about the infuriatingness of dogs).

Pommy became a reluctant celebrity in the canine world. She still endured her daily pampering regimen – the organic kibble, the lavender paw soaks, the absurd outfits. But now, she had an outlet. She had a voice. And she had a legion of loyal, long-suffering canine readers who understood her plight completely.

One evening, as Jackie gently tucked Pommy into her satin-sheeted, four-poster bed, whispering sweet nothings, Pommy let out a small, contented sigh. It wasn’t because she was happy with the bed. It was because she was already mentally drafting her next blog post: “The Tyranny of the Tiny Nightcap: A Conspiracy of Comfort.”

And somewhere, in the quiet digital spaces of the internet, millions of dogs barked in solidarity.