I can no longer do yoga in my own home.
I can't do one of my favorite activities because I'm the parent of an absolutely spoiled/weird black Lab who simply cannot handle the fact that I am doing a thing that involves sort of being on the floor. I think in her world, the floor is her domain. Sure, we walk on it to get to the places we sit, but the floor is pretty much her territory. It's where she sleeps on her dog bed, it's where she rolls around on when her back is itchy, it's where she deposits metric tons of her hair on a daily basis (and when we DARE to sweep it up, she goes into a depressive Emo state that we can't get her out of. Because we ruined all her hard work, you see.)
So when she observes us doing yoga, her natural response is "Oh stretching and laying down! That's Nelly's area of expertise; lemme go show them how it's done." We used to set up our yoga mats in the guest bedroom and follow along to our favorite videos. But as soon as we were horizontal, along came Nelly. I was once stretched out on my mat, trying to achieve some kind of zen meditative state (or at least get my mind to stop obsessing over some stupid parking ticket I had just paid for) when Nelly walked over to me and plopped her entire body on my head. You see, for Nelly this was not a moment of tranquil reflection. This was a moment for us to "bond" or for her to tell me to fuck off and get the hell off of her precious floor space.
We tried closing the doors but FUN FACT—Nelly figured out how to open the doors in our house. Plus, when we locked them and she couldn't get in, she would sit at the door crying like a grieving widow. Yes, for those wondering, I have no goddamn life. I gave it to a 10-year-old diva Lab when we adopted her.
If you go to around 1:00 in the video, that is pretty much what doing yoga in my house is like. "OH HEY BUDDY YOU TRYING TO STRETCH OUT ON THE FLOOR? YOU LOOK STUPID. LET NELLY SHOW YOU HOW IT IS REALLY DONE. TRUST ME NELLY IS A TOTAL EXPERT ON STRETCHING AND LYING DOWN."