Hurry up with that doghouse dad

Hurry up with that doghouse dad”

“Hurry up with that doghouse, Dad!” That’s been my motto these past few weeks. I mean, how long does it take a human with two thumbs and access to power tools to put together one little palace for his loyal pup? I’ve been supervising this project day and night, wagging my tail like the best foreman on the job, and yet here we are—still no completed doghouse.

Every day, Dad hauls out the wood, scratches his head, and mutters something about measurements. I sit there, paw tapping the ground, giving him the look that says, Come on, buddy, I don’t have all winter! He assures me it’ll be done “soon,” but I’ve learned that “soon” in human time means “sometime before the next ice age.”

In the meantime, I’ve been forced to test out some less-than-ideal alternatives. The porch? Drafty. The garage? Smells like paint and lawnmower oil—hardly fit for royalty. The couch? Okay, the couch is perfect, but Dad keeps saying, “That’s why I’m building you your own house.” Honestly, I think he just wants the couch back.

I’ve even tried dropping hints. I dragged a blanket over to the half-finished frame, plopped down, and sighed loudly. Nothing. I brought him his measuring tape, tail wagging, thinking maybe he’d take the hint. Still nothing. I even tried climbing inside the skeleton of the doghouse to test it out—though apparently chewing on the corners “isn’t helpful.”

Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad. He feeds me, scratches my ears, and throws the ball a respectable number of times. But when it comes to construction, let’s just say he’s no Bob the Builder. I’m starting to think I’ll have grand-puppies before this project is finished.

Until then, I’ll keep supervising, keep sighing dramatically, and keep reminding him every chance I get: Hurry up with that doghouse, Dad! Because a dog like me deserves four walls, a roof, maybe even a little porch for sunbathing. And if he doesn’t finish soon? Well, I hear Amazon delivers doghouses pre-built. Just saying.