Mission Timeless: The Clockless Rebellion.
Operation: Who Even Decides What “Morning” Is?
It was 5:43am. Or maybe it was 2:17pm. Or Tuesday. Bella didn’t care. Bella never cared. Bella had transcended time.
Claire, however, very much did care—particularly when a large, fuzzy, snorting creature launched itself onto her bed like a furry meteor and licked her eyelids in an attempt to reset her internal clock.
“Mmmph… Bella… it’s too early,” Claire groaned, pulling the covers over her head.
Bella tilted her head. Early? According to whom? The Council of Sleepy Humans? She’d conducted an internal audit and determined that her hunger was at DEFCON 1. That meant breakfast time was now. This was not a drill.
She burrowed under the duvet like a tunnelling ferret on a mission.
“Bella! No! It’s not time yet!”
Bella paused her advance. Not time? She considered this.
Then she barked once—short, polite, but with the emotional weight of a formal declaration of war.
Mission Clockless Rebellion was now underway.
Claire dragged herself out of bed at the universally agreed-upon time of “whenever Bella wins.”
She shuffled to the kitchen in her robe, muttering about sleep cycles and circadian rhythms and “the absolute tyranny of living with a creature who runs on vibes.”
Bella trotted proudly beside her, tail wagging, having successfully redefined “breakfast time” as “when I say so.”
As the kibble hit the bowl, Bella sat like a perfect angel. She waited precisely three seconds. Then, deciding that Time was a meaningless human construct, she dove in with the grace of a walrus belly-flopping into destiny.
Later that afternoon—or possibly morning or maybe night—Claire reached for the leash. “Walk time, Bells!”
Bella blinked at her from the couch, upside down, legs in the air like a defeated yogi. Her expression said, It’s not Walk O’Clock, Claire. That was forty minutes ago. You missed it. I’ve since entered my Reclining Goddess Phase.
“You were literally climbing the curtains an hour ago.”
Bella closed her eyes. That was then. This is now. I live in the moment. Catch up.
Claire sighed and went to get a snack while Bella meditated on the sound of the fridge opening.
Snacks, however, Bella reasoned, exist outside of time. Snacks are eternal.
She materialised in the kitchen like a summoned spirit, appearing beside Claire with the stealth of a midnight ninja.
Claire jumped. “How do you always know?!”
Bella didn’t answer. She simply stared at the fridge, her eyes transmitting encrypted snack requests in a frequency only dogs and confused astronauts could hear.
The next day (allegedly), Claire tried a new tactic. She set timers. One for breakfast. One for walkies. One for couch cuddles. She even made Bella a little laminated schedule with pictures.
Bella chewed it immediately. Then she took a nap. During “Exercise Time.”
Time, to Bella, was like gravity: interesting, but mostly optional.
And so the days (or whatever they were) passed in what Claire came to call the Bella Time Zone (BTZ)—a realm where breakfast was served by emotional blackmail, naps occurred precisely two minutes before guests arrived, and 3am was a perfectly valid moment to begin barking at a leaf outside.
Claire eventually surrendered.
“I live in your world now,” she muttered, handing Bella a treat in exchange for a single tail wag.
Bella accepted this graciously. Welcome, she said with her eyes. In this realm, joy is scheduled when it happens. Naps are sacred. And love is not bound by clocks.
She curled up in Claire’s lap, sighing deeply.
It was the perfect time.
