I Don’t Know Where I Am, But the Sofa Is Acceptable

They told me I was getting adopted.
I was suspicious. I’ve heard that word before.

Usually it means “new smells, more stairs than advertised, and a well-meaning human who doesn’t understand that I am, in fact, retired.”
But… I went along with it.

They put me in a car.
It moved.
I sighed dramatically to let them know I was displeased.
No one cared.

My adoption day

black greyhound on a sofa

My forever sofa

We arrived at a new house. I did a quick inventory:

  • Sofa: ✅ Acceptable
  • Blankets: ✅ Abundant
  • Human: ✅ Stressed but trying
  • Treats: 👀 Suspiciously delayed
  • Other dogs: ❌ None (excellent, I shall reign unchallenged)

I did what any emotionally intelligent greyhound would do:
I lay down.
I claimed the sofa within 12 seconds.
The hoomans didn’t resist. That’s when I knew this could work.

Closing Statement

Day 1 has gone well. I have secured the sofa, gained minimal responsibilities,

and located the snack zone.
I am, however, still unsure what my job is here.
I suspect it involves being stared at while sleeping.

Will update as more data becomes available.
In the meantime…
Do not move me. I am recovering from my own existence.

— Barney 🐾