The Sunday scaries are the weekly ritual of staring into the abyss of Monday while desperately trying to savor the dwindling hours of the weekend. But having a dog during this existential crisis is a game changer. Sure, they might usually be tearing through the house like they just chugged a double shot of espresso, but on Sundays, my pup becomes my personal emotional support therapist (whether he signed up for it or not).
If it's Sunday, that means I'm on the couch, drowning in a sea of oversized blankets and dreading the impending workweek ahead. My dog should know by now that he's about to endure a full day of unsolicited snuggles. I know he'd much rather be chasing squirrels or dismantling a stuffed animal, ya'know, the normal doggo stuff, but as long as I keep the treats flowing, he's my willing cuddle hostage. There's something so grounding about a dog's presence—those big eyes, that occasional head tilt, and the way they sigh like they too carry the weight of Monday. So, here's to our pups, the ones who don't judge us for binge-watching bad TV while stress-snacking and who let us squeeze every ounce of comfort out of them before the grind begins again.
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