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When you’re a pawrent, sleeping in stops being a real option. The dog has a schedule and breakfast is not negotiable. You might want another hour, but there’s a nose in your face and a tail hitting the wall reminding you there’s work to do. Their priorities are clear. You get up, you serve breakfast, and only then is the morning allowed to continue.
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Too cute. Some mornings we’re basically this dog, ready to fall straight into our coffee the way he’s buried in that bowl. No elegance, just pure need. Breakfast hits and survival mode takes over. It’s hard not to relate when you’re half awake and chasing caffeine like it’s life support.
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Sometimes it really feels like we feed our pets better than we feed ourselves. Their meals are balanced, measured, and served on schedule, while we’re standing in the kitchen debating whether toast counts as dinner. The dog eats like royalty and we’re surviving on snacks and coffee. Priorities get rearranged the second a pet joins the house, and we're fine with that arrangement.
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