If there’s one thing Abbi knows, it’s routine. Breakfast at 7. Walkies after. Nap, bark at the mailman, nap again. Groom some pups, give Dad the stink eye, dinner, snuggles, bedtime. Rinse and repeat. So, you can imagine her confusion when her familiar little world started filling up with boxes. Big ones. Small ones. Some labeled “kitchen,” some “books,” and one that, to her horror, temporarily swallowed her toy basket. At first, she was curious. “Oooh, a new box! Is it for me? Is there a treat inside?” She gave it a good sniff, maybe even a cautious lick. But then came another box. And another. Before long, her favorite nap spot was replaced with a stack labeled “garage junk,” and the hallway turned into a cardboard maze.

Now, Abbi isn’t what you’d call a drama queen… okay, that’s a lie. She’s exactly a drama queen. So when the couch started getting covered in packing paper and her dog bed mysteriously relocated three times in one day, she sounded the alarm—barking, pacing, giving us side-eye like we were personally trying to ruin her life.

And don’t get her started on the tape dispenser. The moment it makes that SKRRTTTCH noise, she bolts like we’re firing a cannon in the living room. Add the screech of cardboard being dragged and the general chaos of humans flailing around in a packing frenzy? Yeah, poor girl was not impressed. We’ve tried reassuring her. “It’s okay, baby. We’re just getting ready to move.” But the look she gives us says, “Why would you move? We JUST figured out where the sunbeam lands at 4 PM.”

Still, even in the midst of all this change, Abbi finds her moments of peace. She’s claimed one of the empty boxes as her “thinking spot.” She occasionally hops inside to supervise, offering judgmental glances like a tiny general overseeing the most disorganized operation in history. And, of course, she still manages to swipe a sock or two while we’re distracted—classic Abbi. We don’t know if she fully understands what’s happening, but one thing’s for sure—wherever we go, Abbi’s coming too. Boxes, chaos, stress and all, home is wherever this little four-legged weirdo lays her head (and buries her bones).

So, hang in there, Abbi. You’re about to have a whole new set of windows to bark out of, smells to sniff, and nap spots to discover. Just maybe keep your paws off the bubble wrap.

We need that.