An Assistant’s Life

Hi. My name is Gaby. I’m an author’s junior assistant. If you think that’s a cool job, you have no clue. It’s hard work, challenging, and exhausting.

All I want to do is eat tons of food (I’m not fed enough!), nap, and occasionally chase around the Great Dane from next door. The guy is hilarious. He’s horrified of me, and I wonder why…

But I’m drifting off the topic. Let me introduce myself properly. As I said, I’m Gaby, and if you dare to call me a Chihuahua, I swear I’ll bite your ankle and won’t let go! I’m a Podenco Portuguese. Yes, you heard that right. Never heard of that breed before, huh? Well, it’s because we are very rare, especially outside of Europe. Which makes me pretty awesome. Even more than I already am.

I was born in Lisbon, Portugal, where I spent the first year of my life on the street. This wasn’t really pleasant, but since I’m a tough cookie, I somehow got along. Then people caught me and put me in a shelter with many other, highly annoying dogs. I didn’t like it at all. From there, I was adopted by my Mom.

I thought, yay, Jackpot! I’ll spend the rest of my life on a sofa, getting spoiled and growing fat – but noooo.

It turned out that Mom is something humans call a “novelist” and that from now on, it would be my job to assist her when she’s writing. And it gets even worse! I quickly had to realize that I’m not the only one Mom employs. She already has two assistants who have been working for her for many years. They both made clear immediately that they are the senior assistants, and I’m the junior. I think that’s so unfair. Is it my fault that I’m little and they are big, and Mom adopted them before me? No.

But what should I do? I swallowed my pride and took the job as a junior assistant for an author. Believe it or not, the job consists of much more than howling as loud as possible when Mom is under the shower and her phone rings, or barking at anyone who dares to walk by the window without my authorization (Ha, I’m a better watch dog than the two senior assistants combined!).

I’d love to tell you more, but I’m afraid it has to wait until next time. My boss – Mom- is at the door and she doesn’t like it to find me sitting at her laptop … maybe since I pulled off two letters from her last keyboard, I don’t know. Humans are strange, but everybody knows that, right? And the creative ones are the worst. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about!

The senior assistants

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