By Mojo (Dog, Emotional Support Employee of the Month, No Days Off)
Hello.
It’s me. Mojo.
I am live-tweeting today because my mom is doing that thing where she says she’s “fine” but her soul has clearly logged off.
I have thoughts.
7:58 AM
Mom woke up tired.
Not “ugh Mondays” tired.
The kind of tired where your body boots up but your spirit hits snooze.
I stayed asleep longer so she wouldn’t feel pressure to be cheerful.
This is called professionalism.
8:21 AM
She sat up very slowly like she was being charged by the movement.
I watched.
Did not assist.
Union rules.
8:45 AM
Coffee was consumed.
Results inconclusive.
9:17 AM
Mom stared at nothing for so long I thought the TV was on.
It was not.
It was just cancer thoughts.
I laid across her like a weighted blanket with opinions.
10:06 AM
She sighed.
Then sighed again.
Then said “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”
Ma’am.
We know why.
11:11 AM
Mom opened her phone, scrolled for four seconds, then locked it like it personally betrayed her.
Relatable.
11:54 AM
Lunch appeared.
Lunch was ignored.
I made eye contact with the lunch to assert dominance.
12:38 PM
Someone texted: “How are you feeling?”
Mom typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Sent: “Doing okay!”
Bold lie.
Respect the confidence though.
1:22 PM
She cried a little but tried to hide it like I don’t live here.
I pressed my face into her neck.
No escape.
Feel your feelings, lady.
2:09 PM
Mom apologized to me for being “boring today.”
I am a dog.
I find cardboard fascinating.
3:03 PM
She said, “I just need to get through today.”
Same.
I have been getting through today since 7:58 AM.
4:26 PM
Mom stared out the window like she was waiting for a sign.
I also stared.
Still no sign.
Still no snack.
5:40 PM
She called herself lazy.
Incorrect.
She is actively surviving in a malfunctioning meat suit.
6:52 PM
Back on The Couch™.
Same spot.
Same blanket.
Different flavor of exhaustion.
I adjusted myself directly onto her organs for comfort.
Final Tweet Before Bed:
Mom is still breathing.
I am still supervising.
Nobody exploded.
Today counts.
— Mojo 🐾
From Izzy 💬
Some days aren’t productive.
They aren’t brave or inspirational or “making the most of it.”
Some days you just exist and let the dog do the heavy lifting.
If today looked like this for you too — welcome to the couch.
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Tomorrow might be better.
If not, we’ll still be here.
Probably on the couch.
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