Lucy's Journal

January 21, 2026

Dear Journal,

Today I learned that nothing in this house happens by accident—especially when Kiwi and Peanut are involved.

It started innocently enough. Kiwi landed on the back of my chair with that wide-eyed “I have an idea” look, while Peanut stretched out on the table like a furry project manager who already had blueprints drawn up. The topic? The backyard waterfall. Apparently, this is no longer a “someday” idea—it’s now a full-scale operation.

Before I could even ask a question, they tried to recruit me. Not ask—recruit. Kiwi pitched it like an adventure: “Think of the ambiance! The soothing water sounds! The dramatic lighting!” Peanut followed up by slowly tapping the table with his paw, as if waiting for my signature on a contract.

Then came the bribes.

Kiwi promised front-row seats to every construction meeting, exclusive early access to the finished waterfall, and unlimited shoulder time during “supervisory flyovers.” Peanut, on the other hand, offered something far more serious: reduced 3 a.m. zoomies, fewer mysterious items knocked off shelves, and a temporary cease-fire on keyboard sitting while I work.

And then they brought in the Quackers.

The Quackers are apparently unionized. They won’t lift a feather without proper compensation. Their demands included premium pond access once the waterfall is complete, extra snacks (the good kind, not the boring kind), and veto power over any rocks that “don’t feel right.” One of them insisted on a daily headcount meeting. Another wanted naming rights to the waterfall.

The payouts kept escalating.

Kiwi requested a cut of the snack budget. Peanut wants a shaded lounging rock positioned just so, with optimal sun coverage. The Quackers want assurances in writing—possibly notarized—that this waterfall won’t suddenly turn into “a bird bath with dreams.”

By the end of it all, I realized I wasn’t being recruited at all.

I was being managed.

So here I am, considering my options. Do I help them build the backyard waterfall and pay the bribes in snacks, treats, and future favors? Or do I risk being on the wrong side of a very determined conure, a master-manipulator tiger cat, and a flock of highly opinionated Quackers?

Let’s be honest.

I’ll probably help.

But I’m definitely negotiating my own payout.