It started like any other Sunday morning. I stretched. I sprawled out on the couch and cuddled with my parents. I begged when they ate their breakfast.
But then… something changed.
Mom pulled out the spray bottles. Dad started moving furniture. There was talk of “dust bunnies” and “finally getting to that baseboard.” I know these signs. I’ve lived through this before. I should’ve run. But I stayed. Like a fool.
Cleaning day.
Here’s the thing: I’ve worked very hard on this house. Every room tells a story. The bottom corner of the kitchen cabinets? Bit of lake mud, September 2024 (they always miss that one). The rug in the spare room? A carefully curated blend of sand, treat crumbs, and twigs I have bitten out of my hair.
But when cleaning day comes… they erase it all.
Mom starts wiping down surfaces like she’s mad at them. Dad dusts like he’s training for a competition. I try to help. I really do. I follow them from room to room. I sit directly where their feet are about to go. I reposition myself on newly cleaned surfaces to restore some scent. But no matter what I do, I’m always, somehow, in the way.
And then, it comes out.
They call it “the vacuum,” but I know what it really is: a loud, hungry monster that lives in the closet and eats everything I love. Crumbs. Hair. Smells. All gone. And the worst part? It follows me. I leave the room? It comes in. I move to a safe corner? It changes course. I tried hiding in the bathtub once. It found me.
I don’t bark at it anymore. That only encourages it. Now I just slink from room to room like a fuzzy fugitive. Every time I think I’ve found peace, I hear the dreaded click of the cord and know I must once again abandon my post.
Eventually, the storm passes. The vacuum returns to its cave. The floors are spotless, the air smells like absolutely nothing at all, and I’m left to wander my sterile kingdom like a fallen hero.
So, I get to work again.
Later, when no one’s looking, I’ll drool a bit on the couch. I’ll sneak a stick inside. I’ll press my face into the pillows. Just enough to say: Mack was here.
They’ll clean again next week, but I will be ready to do it all over again.
