I’m not sure when this happened; all I know is it did. What, you ask? Well, I’m here to tell the tale of the king of our household—yes, you guessed it, the one with fur and paws.

Somehow, over this year, my husband and I have gone from owners of this abode to staff members.

We haven’t been able to pinpoint a time frame, but I know I was not the first to be hired, although I’ll admit I’m now a full-time employee.

We are so accustomed to our new roles that unless we have a guest, we don’t realize just how weird our behavior must look to the outside world.

My daughter was here for Mother’s Day, and she was the first to say, “What are you doing?” Without missing a beat, my co-worker replied, ” I’m getting P a drink.” Oh, let me clarify, P, our dog, was lounging on the sofa when he sat up, looked directly into my co-worker’s eyes, and telepathically demanded that his water dish be air-lifted in front of him to quench his thirst from doing absolutely nothing but snoring for the past two hours.

Needless to say, my daughter thought this was utterly insane, thought we needed help, and stated that she would under no circumstances be delivering water to P while he had four functioning legs.

Fast-forward to this weekend, when my sister, who I still believe birthed my daughter due to their similar personalities, came for a visit. We had plans for Saturday night, so she decided to stay in to catch up on Bridgeerton in peace.

The next day, she said, “I think something is wrong with Peanut.” Of course, I was not concerned because I somehow knew what was coming next. She explained that for a good half hour of Episode Six, Peanut was sitting on the couch crying, and she could barely hear the show. Without hesitation, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to say, I replied, “Oh, he probably wanted you to get him a drink.”

My sister is not delivering drinks to humans who are capable of getting up, let alone a dog. I wish I captured the look on her face. It was part horror, confusion, and a lot of WTF.

I explained the insanity, and as you all know, it sounds much more insane when you hear it coming out of your mouth. She responded, “Well, last I checked, I was not working at the Four Seasons.”

Something tells me Peanut n knows who will and will not be waiting on him hand and foot at the slightest sound of a whimper.

No worries, folks. We are well aware that we have created a terrible habit, but P is almost 15 years old, which is 105 in dog terms. If he wants room service from us, he will get it.

Enjoy the Ride!