The Summer Heatwave of Doom

Hello there, my two-legged, subservient readers! It is I, Winston, your favorite French Bulldog guide to all things charming, ridiculous, and occasionally dramatic. I know last winter, I whined – okay, vocally objected in a highly reasonable, articulate manner – about the snow, the cold, and the general betrayal that was January. Well, guess what? I take it all back. I would happily trade this fiery summer ordeal for some frigid, paw-freezing tundra right now. That’s right, dear friends. I’ve been betrayed again, this time by Mother Nature, and honestly? I’m done.

The Heat? UNACCEPTABLE.

I once dreamed of basking in the warmth, imagining myself lounging like a sunlit king, my tidy coat gleaming in golden rays. Instead? I have found myself gasping, panting, and performing full-on theatrical flops onto the coldest tile I can find just to survive.

This heat makes Mondays feel like a gentle belly rub from a kind stranger. The moment I step outside, it’s like I’ve been shoved inside a pizza oven set to “extra crispy.” I lay down in the sun for what feels like two seconds—TWO SECONDS—and suddenly I’m sweating buckets (don’t ask me how, I’m not even supposed to sweat like you humans). It’s like I ran a marathon while wearing a fur coat, and spoiler alert: I was NOT built for marathons, fur coat or not.

But let’s address the real tragedy here—my nose. I’m a French Bulldog, people. Do you know what that means? It means I can barely breathe when the weather is perfect, let alone when it’s hotter than Hades out here. You really expect a dog with a snout that looks like it lost a fight with a pancake to thrive in this inferno? Breathing is already my daily struggle, and now you’re asking me to do it in the middle of some fiery dystopia? Nah, I’m clocking out. Someone bring me an air conditioner and a tiny dog-sized fan because this is officially a hate crime against flat-faced dogs everywhere.

My Plan to Combat the Heat

Since screaming at the sky for an entire afternoon yielded no results (betrayal!), I’ve devised some coping mechanisms. Allow me to share with you my survival strategies:

• Tile is my throne: That’s right, I’ve spent most of my days sprawled across the coldest, iciest tile my domain (a.k.a. my house) can offer. Sure, the humans roll their eyes when I dramatically claim the entire kitchen floor as my personal spa, but what can I say? Royalty deserves comfort.
• Ice cubes are life: Naturally, I’ve demanded my water be served with ice cubes for an extra touch of decadence. And if my humans aren’t fast enough at refilling my bowl? Well, let’s just say my dramatic side emerges. I won’t confirm or deny stomping a paw with emphasis.
• The Personal AC Crusade: After plotting by the vent, I’ve made my case clear: I need my own portable AC unit. I even offered to start a GoFundMe to finance it because, let’s face it, my cooling needs are not being met. “Budgeting,” they tell me. Ugh. Have they NOT seen my melting face of despair?
• Strategic walks only: I refuse to subject my paws to sizzling sidewalks. That seven-second rule you humans abide by to see if the ground is too hot for our little paws is a bunch of BULLdog. I’ve successfully convinced my humans to schedule walks during early mornings and later evenings. And by convinced, I mean threatened. I am one squat away from getting a furari.

Why Can’t We Control the Weather Yet?

Here’s the deal, folks. I just want a perfect 72 degrees year-round. Is that really so much to ask? I mean, I’m not asking for blazing heat or freezing cold, just that sweet spot. Surely, if some old guy from 1902 can create the air conditioner, some nerd with today’s technology could figure out how to control the weather.

Maybe I can figure out how to get hold of that one guy who made it rain spaghetti and meatballs in that one movie. He seemed like a pretty intelligent fellow…

Well, until next time, dear readers. Stay hydrated and try not to get heat exhaustion (normal exhaustion is okay).

Yours in sweaty solidarity,

Winston 🐾

P.S. If you happen to have an unused AC unit lying around, call me.