I walk into the bedroom and my little brother Salem is napping away. I clear my throat and remind him, “Our human is going to be mad if you don’t go and pick up your toys.”
He opens one eye halfway and responds, “I need a nap.”
“No you don’t, you just had one.”
“But I haven’t taken my meds yet, I’m exhausted,” he stretches his paws forward and closes his eyes again.
I scream in frustration, “They’re Tartar Control Friskies Bites! Stop calling them ‘your meds’!!”