Who's The Boss?

I am made fully aware on a daily basis that the thought I am in charge here is a complete illusion.  The fact is I live to serve and hold the title of majordomo, not boss.  I'm really lucky; if it weren't for Bessie Anne's watchful eye, I could go off the rails and end up like Musk's Tesla, floating aimlessly through the days.  She makes sure I don't become a sedentary creature by getting me up from my chair umpteen times a day.  "I need to go out now."  "I need to come in now."  "Now!"  To keep it interesting, she chooses a different door each time.  Sometimes she goes out one door and wants back in another.  In nice weather, Bess suggests a walkabout outdoors if she thinks I need more exercise.

She is a benevolent despot who only speaks harshly if I'm a little slow in routine, especially in the morning with her three treats.  "Hey, a little service here!  Pay attention!"  Her internal clock is more dependable than Big Ben.  Morning and night, she tells me when it's time to tend the goats and I'd best jump to.  She begins with a gentle reminder, her voice rising in pitch and volume if I dawdle.  If it's raining, once she's got me headed in the right direction, she may decide to lie back down instead of accompanying me.  There are times I wish she would take over chores instead of telling me what to do.

I made a brief foray into The Black Hole yesterday and Bessie Anne came in to supervise.  She was a little peeved when the phone rang (saved by the bell) and I shut the door again.  As I told her, a thing will either get done...or it won't.  I have a feeling the Boss will make sure it does.