When Pets Rule the House

There comes a point in every pet auntie’s life when you realize you’re not the boss anymore. You might pay the bills, buy the treats, and say, “This is MY house”—but if you’ve got pets, you already know: that’s adorable.

In my house, the real rulers are Yuno, a Belgian Malinois–Doberman mix with the discipline of a drill sergeant and strategic cuteness, and Neji, an Aspin (a.k.a. Filipino street-smart dog) who has mastered the art of silent judgment and the drama of a telenovela star. Together, they run the place like furry overlords with unlimited snacks and zero accountability.

Forget alarm clocks. Neji has a built-in radar that detects even the slightest eyelid movement. The moment I think about waking up, he’s there—face above mine, seemingly saying, “Good morning, human. Breakfast. Now.”

Meanwhile, Yuno takes a more subtle approach. He just sits beside the bed, quietly staring at me like a ghost from a dog food commercial until guilt does its job. By 5:00 a.m., I’m out of bed, bleary-eyed, pouring kibble like a butler with no union benefits.

They eat like royalty. I sip cold coffee and question all my life choices.

The Furniture Monopoly

Every piece of furniture in this house was once mine. Then Yuno discovered couches.

Now he lounges like he’s posing for Canine Vogue. The way he sprawls out—with one paw dramatically stretched over his head and the other bent artistically beside his face—you’d think he owned stock in the furniture.

Neji, on the other hand, is not very much a couch hogger. He takes one side of the house, curls down on the floor, and everyone’s off-limits within one meter.

And when they’re asleep near where I am, it means I should not move–not sneeze, not even blink.

Cooking with Yuno and Neji around is like competing on a cooking show–with obstacle–and where the judges have fur and no boundaries.

Neji supervises patiently but with military precision, watching every move like, “Are you done yet?” Yuno, meanwhile, inspects each ingredient (since he can reach over the counter) sniffing gently, and then plops himself down my feet. He waits patiently, tail wagging softly, weaponizing his big brown eyes until I “accidentally” drop a piece of any ingredient.

If I actually manage to eat in peace, they both sit nearby, staring in silence like an audience waiting for a plot twist. Spoiler alert: they don’t always get a taste. I can still maintain a small, tiny bit of authority in that area.

I once dreamed of a minimalist home. Then Neji arrived—with enough chew toys to open a small pet shop. Squeakers, ropes, tennis balls—if it can be thrown, shredded, or drooled on. But he’d become the four-pawed demolition team, so maybe there’s still the chance of a minimalist home with a ton of fur.

Yuno doesn’t really play much with toys. He curates them. You’ll find one under the couch, another by the shoes, and at least one mysteriously relocated to my bed every night. It’s like living with a tiny, furry interior designer whose theme is “chaotic whimsy.”

I’ve stopped cleaning up after them. I just step carefully and hope for the best.

Every night, I tell myself, “Tonight, I’ll reclaim my bed.” Every night, I’m wrong.

Yuno takes the center—because of course he does. He stretches diagonally, taking up more space than physics allows. Neji curls up by my legs, effectively trapping me in one awkward position until morning.

If I try to move, I get the look—that offended “How dare you disturb us?” glare that only dogs can pull off. I fall asleep feeling like an unwanted guest in my own bed, whispering, “I live here too, you know.”

They ignore me. Naturally.

The Final Word

When pets rule the house, chaos is constant, fur is everywhere, and personal space is a myth. But honestly? I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Yuno brings structure (and volume). Neji brings heart (and sneakiness). Together, they fill my days with laughter, muddy paw prints, and the kind of unconditional love that makes every chewed shoe (two pairs of Doctor Martens! 😱😭)and stolen blanket worth it.

So here’s to the real rulers of the household—our furry monarchs who keep us humble, sleep-deprived, yet ridiculously happy and unconditionally loved.