Dogtor Waffles

S'up! Merry Monday. Kick this week in the tennis balls.

I climbed onto the table because I believe in elevated thinking. Also snacks. And fetching. But YOU! You’re doing the hard human things, and I see it. Sun’s out, snow’s melting, and you’ve got this. And if you don't feel like you've got this, get snacks and try again tomorrow.

I go to the Snuggle Store weekly for “emotional support duties.” Humans say I help them decompress because everything is AAAARGH. Pretty sure that’s backwards. I show up, collect unlimited tummy rubs, accept admiration, and leave spiritually enriched and treat-enhanced. 180% recommend.

I saw my deer friends in the woods. We communed peacefully, as always.

Now I must roll in the snow for 15 minutes to process my emotions, and absolutely NOT because I don’t want to go home.

The woods are perfect. The snow is perfect. I am perfect. Send snacks. This protest could last a while.

Just me, putting the "shock" in François Couperin's "Le Tic Toc Choc ou Les Maillotins" while the Mom stepped away. Eat your heart out, Sokolov!

Moral: Play your music and sing your songs the way you want to. It's your voice and your art. You're allowed.

HEY. YOU. YES YOU.

YOU MADE IT TO FRIDAY. I REPEAT: YOU MADE IT TO FRIDAY.

Incredible work. Extremely proud of you. A++. Now rest, hydrate, and then go back out in the world. Continue being a chaotic force for good. Also, maybe eat something with cheese. And toast. Cheese on toast.

They say dogs and cats cannot share a snack. Yet here we are, bonded by tube cheese-of-the-sea. I feel evolved. Also slightly betrayed because the Cat got more.

Share a snack with a friend today. It's good for the soul.

GOOD MORNING! You looked like you didn't need any personal space. Also, are you going to finish that Toast?

And look, you made it to Wednesday! That's pretty darn spiffy.

Witness me, mortals. I have achieved ball-ball.

Listen. You're doing GREAT for a creature with no fur in this "icy" climate. You got up today. You moved your meatsuit. Your job right now is not joy, or healing, or productivity. Your job is boots, coat, step, step, sniff, breathe, step. That’s it. That’s the whole assignment. 10/10 A++ ⭐.

It’s dangerous to go alone. Take this.

I believe in you. You can do the things.

Looking forward to things isn't naive or a betrayal of reality. You can hold both "this is really hard" and "soon I'll float quietly in a canoe and the sun will hit the water just right.”

Hope doesn’t have to be big and heroic. A summer morning. A favorite place. Toast. Snuggles on the shore. 🛶🐾

I BROKE A RULE TODAY.

Was it dangerous? Yes.
Illegal? Probably.
Was something up there worth it? Absolutely.

Rules protect you. Bravery lets you stretch toward what matters, even when it’s scary and the chair wobbles.

Be safe. Be kind. Be brave. Reach, even if it gets you into a little trouble.

Dogtor advice: If your insides are barking, it’s because something’s wrong. That’s biology, not failure. No, you can’t fix that with vibes, mantras, or telling yourself to “just calm down.” Name the threat. Say it out loud. Ground yourself in reality. Trust your instincts. Regulation follows truth.

Went for a walk today and found a frostbitten void. He asked ME for snuggles. Weird. We took him to the humane society for urgent vet care. If he pulls through and no one claims him, I've already asked the humans if I could spring him from jail after his stray hold is up. THEY HAVEN'T SAID NO.

I believe in the power of toast, no matter its toppings or mix-ins except for raisins (for obvious toxicological reasons), though let me tell ya, today I discovered HAM ON THE BONE because the human shared a bit, and I bet that'd be EVEN MORE AMAZING on toast.

Take a few minutes today to scream, run, and jump after something you really love. It helps, even if only temporarily. It puts more fuel in the fartcannon. More spring in your sproings. More power in your everythings.

Trust me. I'm a dogtor. I know these things.

Also? Toast. Make some toast.

Got NO WALKS yesterday "for weather reasons." What the fluff? I staged a protest this morning. Pranced. Bwoofed. Yelled at the door like it owed me snacks. One toller, persistent. Relentless.

Behold: Mom caved. We walked in −28°C weather with coats on.

Moral: Even wee dogs can make power blink.

That's the nice thing about toast. It's always there, quietly waiting in the background like a warm, crunchy friend who never asks questions. Eat it standing at the counter. Let the crumbs fall where they may. Share a piece of crust with your doggo.

It's dangerously cold out at midday walk o'clock.

Mom: "IF YOU'RE COLD, THEY'RE COLD. KEEP THEM INSIDE."

Me: "IF I'M COLD, we've reached the heat death of the universe, and we should go for a walk since the world's about to end anyway."

Guess what! We went for a walk! Nat 20 persuasion, baby!

Hello! Hi. It's me. Does today feel impossible? Then downgrade expectations. Today's goal: Exist. Bonus goal: Toast. I can't make toast, but I can watch you do it with unwavering faith. Tosters are magical. Bread goes in, toast comes out! See, this is how we survive winters. Together. With snacks.

If all you did today was survive and not make things worse, that is a solid performance. Extremely respectable. 13/10. Would give treat. A++

GOOD MORNING I SCREAMED INTERNALLY BECAUSE SQUIRRELS EXIST. I am alive again today? Unclear how this keeps happening, but I love it. Went for a walk. Ice on my whiskers, tail in overdrive. It’s cold enough that my thoughts froze. Wind touched my face. Nose froze. Sun’s out. 13/10.

Dragged my human outside where it's a MILD -18°C/-1F and sunny. Snow was crunchy under my feet. Read the pee-mail. Left my mark on dog socials. Tackled the human as she knelt to pick up my dirty sinful business. She asked: “Why are you like this?!” LADY. I am DOG, and JOY IS A FULL-CONTACT SPORT.

Waffles the dog sleeps upside down on a comfy chair.

Hello, human. Your job isn’t to carry the whole pack. Do one small thing today. Not “fix everything.” Not “be your best self.” One thing you can finish or improve by, like, 5%. Eat something. Do the dishes. You’re not weak. Worry means you care. Log off for a bit. I'll bark at the void for you.

IT ME

Waffles the dog has his nose pressed almost up to the camera lens, carrying a toy for his handler to throw. He doesn't understand the concept of personal space.

Hello! Hi! You’re anxious. You keep checking the rectangle that makes your eyebrows do that thing.

Listen. Things are weird. Those who tell you otherwise haven't been paying attention or have a very nice yard. We can be worried and alive at the same time. Joy isn't denial. Take 30. Throw the toy.

Waffles, a 1.5 year old Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever sits and smiles at the camera. He's just happy to be here.

I don’t fully understand what's going on, but I believe in you SO HARD.