I'm BooBoo.
A big, fluffy black-and-white Siberian Husky. Imported bloodline, built strong like a wolf, meant for pulling sleds in the icy lands of Russia. Fierce, majestic, intimidating. Like those badass wolves in vampire movies.
I was born cool as hell.
But…
I lost all that cool the day I met my so-called "owner"..Dream.
This dude… what the actual hell. He sleeps like a koala on hibernation mode. Out of twenty-four hours, he spends sixteen of them passed out. Humans are supposed to sleep eight hours. Eight! And he doubles that.
I was bred to bark loud, guard homes, hunt if needed. Perfect watchdog material.
But Dream? He doesn't care how terrifying I look. He doesn't even know how to raise a dog. No food bowl, no water dish. Dog food? He just dumps the whole sack by the door, slices it open with a knife, and calls it a day. "Eat whenever."
Water? He trained me to turn on the faucet outside.
Bathroom? He just pointed at the toilet like, "Go there."
Bed? "Sleep anywhere."
Basically, his life philosophy is: I do nothing, you figure it out yourself.
The guy has zero goals in life. Honestly, he should've been born a mosquito live a week and die.
Ever since his dad bought me to "teach him responsibility," things have only gotten worse.
He doesn't walk me. Instead, he trained me to work for him.
Pick up trash, fetch laundry, water the plants, even bathe myself. Oh, and the worst he made me learn to use his phone. HIS PHONE. Like some unpaid intern-slave.
And then..
"BooBoo, the food delivery guy's coming. Go open the door and wake me up after, okay?"
…Are you serious? A DOG receiving food orders now?
Of course, he passed out right after saying that.
Snore… snore…
Look at him. Sleeping so deep his spine's probably stretched to Mars. Pale like boiled chicken. I don't think he's ever touched sunlight. Maybe he's secretly related to vampires, who knows.
Ding-dong. Ding-dong.
Delivery's here. Great. Now it's my job.
Creak.
"Hi, food delivery for—ARGHHHHH!"
THUD!
Seriously? I just opened the door. I look awesome! Why scream like that?
Anyway, I carried the bag in. Meanwhile, Dream is STILL asleep.
What is he, deaf? Golden-eared sleeper?
Woof! Scratch scratch!
…
No response.
WOOF WOOF WOOF! RIP RIP!
Still nothing.
Alright, fine. You asked for it, pal.
Chomp. Run. Splashhhhhh!
"AHHHHH! WATER! I'M DROWNING! I'M DROWNING!"
Yep. I grabbed the garden hose and sprayed him awake.
Finally, mission accomplished.
"BooBoo!" he yelled.
Yeah, it's me. Not your holy father.
He's awake, but now the whole living room is soaked. Did he clean it up? Of course not. He sat down, dripping wet, happily eating his food like nothing happened.
"BooBoo, toss the box in the trash for me, okay? I'm gonna brush my teeth and work a bit."
…This guy. Too lazy to even pour food into a plate. His parents are neat freaks, but their son? A slob king. Sometimes I wonder if they found him in a dumpster instead of a hospital.
And then—this clown finishes his meal, turns to me with that squinty smile, and lets out the loudest burp right in my face.
Ughhh. Gross. Absolutely disgusting.
That's my life. BooBoo, the once-majestic husky, reduced to babysitting one hopelessly lazy human.