Welcome back, fellow word‑wranglers, deadline‑dodgers, and creative spirits who thought, “Sure, I can absolutely raise a baby animal AND keep up with my writing schedule.”
For this month's Comedy newsletter, I'm a guest editor for this issue and I'm writing on a scenario many of us puppy or kitten owners remember when we brought our new pet family members home and the struggle with blending their world, and maintaining deadlines, writing schedules, etc. with our own.
I'm presenting it from a time when the pet members were kittens or puppies, but truthfully told, any age will be an adjustment as they want to ensure they make their presence known in this new world of theirs.
So, if you’ve been there, you already know. If you haven’t, consider this your cautionary tale, your emotional support reading material, and your reminder that you are not alone in the chaos.
Let’s begin.
Day 1: The Delusional Optimism Phase
You bring home your new furry companion with the confidence of someone who has clearly never tried to write a paragraph with a creature chewing on their shoelaces.
You imagine cozy writing sessions with your pet curled at your feet, maybe purring softly, maybe snoring gently. You picture yourself sipping tea, typing away, living your best “writer with a pet” aesthetic.
This is the last time you will have a coherent thought for several days.
Because your new pet has one goal:
To ensure you never finish a sentence again.
Week 1: The Great Productivity Collapse
You sit down to write. Your puppy sits down to eat the corner of your laptop. Your kitten sits down on your laptop.
You try to outline a chapter. You attempt to brainstorm. Your pet attempts to interrupt every 14 seconds.
You quickly learn that your writing schedule is now meaningless. Your deadlines? Fiction. Your planner? A chew toy. Your word count goals? A distant dream.
You begin Googling things like:
How to write with a puppy attached to your pant leg? and Do kittens ever stop walking across keyboards? I had to remove one while trying to write this very newsletter. lol You discover that the internet is no help to you. And you fall into a distressed sleep at your desk, with a kitten at your side.
Life is good. Now we move on to the next phase of our growth with our youngster.
Week 2–4 is known as the Sleep‑Deprived Writer Era
You try to write while they eat. They finish eating in 45 seconds. You write half a sentence. You try to write while they chew a toy.
They decide the toy is boring. You begin to understand why so many writers dedicate their books to “my patient family” and not “my unhinged baby animal who ate my outline.”
This is when your writing life becomes a series of half‑finished sentences and fully finished cups of coffee. Your pet wakes you up at 2 a.m. You think, “Maybe I’ll write since I’m awake.” Your pet thinks, “Maybe she can give me more food since she's awake.”
You try to write during nap time. Your pet naps for exactly 11 minutes. You write 1 word. Simply, "Help." This is the toughest part of blending this new life into your own. There's hope somewhere on the horizon.
Month 2: The I Can Do This Delusion
Around the 45‑day mark, you start to believe you’re getting the hang of things. Your pet sleeps a little longer. You write a little more.
You start to feel… hopeful. You think, “We’ve turned a corner.” Your pet thinks, “Time to chew the power cord.” Suddenly your screen goes black. Your soul leaves your body. Your pet looks proud.
You try to revise a chapter. Your puppy steals your pen and sprints away like he’s in an action movie. You try to write a newsletter.
Your pet decides your lap is the only acceptable place to sit. You begin to accept that your writing process is no longer a process. It is a negotiation.
Month 3: The Bonding‑Through‑Chaos Phase
By now, you’ve adapted. You’ve become a writer who can type with one hand, hold a chew toy with the other, balance a kitten on your shoulder, ignore the sound of something breaking in the next room, write dialogue while saying “drop it” every 30 seconds.
But something else happens too, your pet starts to become your writing companion — not the peaceful, aesthetic kind you imagined, but the chaotic, comedic, “I love you but please stop eating my bookmarks” kind.
They curl up next to you, they follow you from room to room, they greet you like you’ve been gone for years when you return from the bathroom, and somehow, in the middle of the mess, the noise, the interruptions, and the chewed‑up plot notes…you feel inspired.
Because this tiny creature — this furry tornado — has given you new stories, new humor, new patience, and a new appreciation for every single word you manage to write.
The 90‑Day Mark: You Are Now a Different Writer
By the end of the first 90 days, you’ve transformed into a writer who:
You can draft with a pet draped across your arms. (Um, not me, yet! lol Just listing as a goal type, fantasy filled hopeful writing) Can revise while throwing a toy across the room. Can brainstorm while rescuing your slippers. Can meet deadlines (eventually). Can laugh at the chaos instead of crying about it.
You’ve learned that writing with a new pet isn’t impossible — it’s just… creatively challenging. And you’ve also gained a loyal companion,
An endless source of comedic material, a warm presence during long writing sessions, and a tiny creature who thinks you’re the entire universe. Honestly speaking, that’s worth every chewed notebook.
But it’s also full of love, laughter, and stories you’ll tell forever.
And trust me — once you survive these first 90 days, you’ll be unstoppable.
Well, that's all for now guys and hope you liked this info my friends♥
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Comedy: February 18, 2026 Issue [#13604]
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