The Bell, the Mood, and the Great Treat Injustice

By Sassy (obviously)

Something weird is happening at my house.

The air is lighter. People are laughing more. Mama hums while she walks around instead of sighing like a broken accordion. Daddy smiles like he knows a secret. And—this is important—we are no longer sitting around staring at each other like sad houseplants.

Instead… Mama keeps ringing a doggone bell.

I don’t know what the bell officially means, but every time it rings, everyone gets all emotional and happy. Mama says it’s a celebration bell. I say it’s loud, unnecessary, and should probably dispense treats. (It does not. Rude.)

Now here’s where things take a turn.

Mama looked at me the other day, put her hands on her hips, and said,

“Sassy… you’re getting a little chunky.”

EXCUSE ME.

First of all, I prefer the term “well-loved.”
Second of all, she immediately followed that up with,

“We’re cutting back on treats.”

We.

Reader, allow me to be very clear: she did not cut back on her treats.

I have personally witnessed her enjoying snacks while announcing my new dietary journey. She eats. I watch. This feels legally questionable.

So now I get fewer treats, more walks (which I do enjoy, thank you very much), and a front-row seat to Mama celebrating life with bells and snacks and joy and zero accountability.

But… here’s the thing.

Even with the injustice.
Even with the treat betrayal.
Even with my kibble-only future.

The house feels good again.

Mama laughs. Daddy relaxes. The bell rings. We move, we go places, we live instead of waiting. And honestly? I’d trade a few treats for that any day.

(But not all the treats. Let’s not get crazy.)

Love,
Sassy 🐕
Still fabulous. Slightly less fed. Very hopeful.