Cheating Chelsea Says:

I heard the doorbell ring at 2 PM, and before I could even get off the couch, Bella was already at the door doing her signature “INTRUDER ALERT” bark that probably violates several noise ordinances.

Through the window, I could see it: a big brown Chewy box sitting on the porch. I’d ordered some cat food for my sister last week and completely forgot about it. No big deal, right? Wrong. So wrong.

The moment I opened the door and Bella saw that box with the Chewy logo, something in her changed. Her bark shifted from protective to personally offended. She looked at me, then at the box, then back at me with this expression that clearly said, “You’ve got to be kidding me right now.”

I tried to explain it wasn’t even for us, but she wasn’t hearing it. She positioned herself between me and the box like a furry, judgmental barrier. Every time I reached for it, she’d let out this low grumble that somehow communicated decades of accumulated disappointment.

The rest of the afternoon, she followed me around the house, staring at me with those big brown eyes full of accusation. I’m pretty sure she wrote a strongly worded letter to the universe about my betrayal.

From Bella’s Perspective:

Okay, so let me get this straight. A DELIVERY TRUCK pulls up. A DELIVERY PERSON walks to OUR door. They leave a BOX. A box that clearly contains FOOD because I can smell it from here.

And it’s from CHEWY. Not The Hungry Puppy. CHEWY.

Do you know who delivers from The Hungry Puppy? Nice people in their delivery truck who ALWAYS have a little brown bag of biscuits. ALWAYS. They know my name. They give me ear scratches. Sometimes they bring samples of the good stuff.

But no. She ordered from Chewy. I don’t even get to bark at the nice Hungry Puppy delivery driver who understands that I’m not actually aggressive, I’m just vocally enthusiastic about snacks.

This Chewy person just dropped the box and LEFT. No biscuits. No “who’s a good girl?” No acknowledgment of my excellent guard dog skills whatsoever.

And then—AND THEN—she opens the box and it’s CAT FOOD. Not even for me. For her sister’s cat. A CAT. I don’t even know what to do with this information. I’ve been betrayed on multiple levels.

I spent the rest of the day making sure she understood the gravity of her mistake. Every room she went into, I was there. Staring. Judging. Remembering.

The Happy Ending:

But then, around 4 PM, I heard a familiar sound. The Hungry Puppy Delivery Truck! My human must have realized her terrible mistake because she’d ordered my favorite freeze-dried treats for EXPRESS DELIVERY.

The driver—my FAVORITE driver, Anthony—came to the door with my treats AND a little brown bag of biscuits. He gave me the ear scratches I deserved. He told me I was a good girl (which I am, obviously).

My human opened the treats right away and gave me three. THREE. That’s how sorry she was.

I guess she’s not completely hopeless. The Hungry Puppy Delivery makes everything better. We’re friends again. For now. But I’m watching her. One more Chewy box and we’re going to have a serious conversation.