don’t tell her she’s a dog.
my dog doesn’t know she’s a dog.
my mom always joked around that my dog thinks she’s human. it’s true that kiraa insists on sleeping on couches and beds, eating warmed food and believes that food comes from the fridge (not by hunting) she also always insists on going into the designer stores when i take her shopping and she hates t-shirts that aren’t made of natural fibers (i know you guys think i’m kidding, but the only shirt she’s ever ripped and chewed on was a little polyester blend hawaiian dress i bought her!)
but i never believed it! i mean, how could she not know she’s a dog? she’s like 8 inches tall! and she licks her butt!
but i took her to the dog park this week and she refused to socialize with other dogs. in fact, she look rather annoyed at the other canines. she keep getting this chiuhahua grimace on her face and trot away to a corner anytime someone tried to sniff her butt. she didn’t seem scared! just frickin’ annoyed. she then proceeded to leap into the laps of people who were sitting on the dog park bench and just letting them pet her! like a spoiled brat! it was then that my friend michelle (who’s dog gracie seemed to be in doggy heaven, leaping and running and “bro-ing out” with the other dogs) turned to me and pointed out that my dog was pretty much ME. “ugh, it’s so hard walking amongst the commoners.” and let’s be real, that’s my inner monologue every time i WORK. “ugh, it’s hard being amongst the mentally challenged.”
so i suppose, the moral of THIS post is that dogs are like their owners, and owners are like their dogs. and we’ll be happy together, as long as you don’t make us wear man-made materials.