Lucy's Journal

Journal Entry – July 16th

Written by Lucy, the white and tan Shih Tzu

Dear Journal,

Okay, Lucy. Deep breaths. Let’s think. Let’s strategize.

Last week’s pool poop party was a masterpiece — a chaotic, poop-splattered ballet of distraction and deception. Kiwi’s aerial attacks were legendary, and Peanut even smiled for once (which, for him, is the equivalent of doing cartwheels). But now… now we’ve got a problem.

How do we outdo that?

I’ve been pacing the hallway all afternoon, tail twitching, brain buzzing. Peanut says we should “just let the legacy live” and not try to top perfection — classic cool cat cop-out. Kiwi, on the other hand, wants to dye herself blue and pretend to be a parrot on the run from the zoo. Not the worst idea she’s had. (That was the time she tried to ride the ceiling fan. We don’t talk about that day.)

But me? I want bigger. I want sneakier. I want the humans scratching their heads and whispering, “How did this happen?” while we nap peacefully in plain sight.

Here are my current top ideas:

1. Peanut Butter Paw Prints.
   I get into the pantry, find the jar, and then we all take turns walking across the kitchen floor. Peanut’s dainty, Kiwi can do the windowsill, and I’ll handle the couch. By the time the humans figure it out, it’ll look like a crime scene from a very sticky nature documentary.

2. Alexa Shenanigans.
   Peanut’s been studying how the humans talk to that Alexa box. What if Kiwi flies over and squawks “Play Baby Shark!” twenty times a day while nobody's home? We’ll blame the toddler next door.

3. Toilet Paper Takeover.
   Classic but effective. We each grab a roll. I tug it down the hallway. Kiwi drags hers out the bathroom window. Peanut just shreds his into confetti. Instant house party vibes.

4. The Great Snack Swap.
   We replace the dog treats with cat treats and vice versa. Confusion. Suspicion. Delicious chaos. No one suffers. Everyone snacks.

As I write this, Kiwi is perched on the windowsill whispering something about “commandeering the garden hose.” That’s terrifying. And... oddly inspiring.

Whatever we choose, it’s got to be epic. Clean paws. No evidence. Full deniability.

Time to sleep on it — and dream of mischief.

Scheming sweetly,
🐾 Lucy the Ringleader (with fur as soft as a cloud and a mind as sharp as Peanut’s claws)

P.S. If we do pull off the garden hose thing, I’m insisting we call it Operation Sprinkler Blitz.