Our Human

It was the dog's job to worry.
"When will our human be back?"
"What if she forgot about us?"
"Could the mailman have gotten her?"
"Did she get lost? Who will give belly rubs and treats if she's lost?"
Every day, the same anxious questions spilled from the dog's muzzle within a minute of our human closing the front door.
And she wonders why I seem irritated by the time she gets home.
Still, the dog often makes our human laugh, and so he may stay in my home.
Even if he did get his slobber all over my catnip mouse.
Yes, it is the dog's job to worry.
Mine is to remind our human that my favor is not handed out to merely anyone.
The dog certainly hasn't done anything to receive it.
And with how low the sun has gotten, our human won't be receiving it tonight.
She always returns before sunset.
That is the rule.
Oh, she may leave again after she has changed her furs and groomed her long head-fur, but then it is to be expected that she will be gone until the later in the night.
Even then, it is the dog's job to worry.
But today, I wonder why she has not returned.
Could it be because of that other-human, the one who brought dying plants and spicy-boxed-food?
The dog likes the other-human, who wrestles for the rope-toy with him while our human laughs.
I am withholding judgment on the other-human until I know what his plans are for our human.
After all, the other-human cannot be allowed to disrupt my plans.
So today I wait, and the dog worries.
Finally, our human returns.
The dog's worries vanish in a blink, transforming into a disgusting spew of relief.
"You're back! You remember me! The mailman didn't get you! You weren't lost! Did you bring treats? Can we play? Then get belly rubs?"
The dog made a fool of himself, yet again.
I did not resort to foolishness.
No, I chose instead to glare at the reason our human was late.
The other-human.
There he stood, with more dead plants. The other-human positively reeked of happiness and relief, and his gaze never left our human.
She reeked of happiness as well, and kept playing with some shiny-thing on the long-toe of one of her forepaws.
Oh, this was not going to end well. Not with both our human and the other-human reeking so.
The dog was oblivious, his worries gone at the sight of our human and with the distraction of the other-human.
But now I worried.
For our human would change soon. Change as all creatures seemed to after finding a mate.
My plans must change as well, since the other-human would be nearly impossible to get rid of now.