I’m The Dog You Stopped To Pet And I Fucking Hate You

I get it. You once had a dog. You don’t right now. You’re far away from your home and family, emotionally or physically or whatever. You see me, an adorable and handsome little beagle, and you think, “Hey, this little guy could cheer me right up!” Well listen, I’m not your fucking therapist. I’m not here to fucking make you feel better. You know what I am here for? To shit and piss on the sidewalk.

See, for some reason, this yuppie asshole thought a two bedroom, five-floor walkup would be the perfect place for a dog to live out his days. I descended from wolves and now I have to wait to pee or this shit-for-brains literally rubs my nose in it. And you’re not helping. This city’s already ridiculously loud. It’s hard enough to focus on dropping a big one outside a Duane Reed, millions of cars speeding by, the sounds of city reverberating in my fucking skull. And yet somehow, you screech, “OH MY GOD SO CUTE,” and it pierces me through the center of my brain and makes me want to rip your neck and feast on your tasty neckblood.

And then, most of the time without asking because fuck respect at this point, you lay your disgusting human paws on me and rub my skin like I’m some magic lamp. I already know I’m a good boy, I already know I’m so cute. I don’t need your fucking validation. I need you to leave me the fuck alone so I can shit in peace.

Don’t use me as a goddamn prop for your own insecurities, you selfish bitch. Just for that I’m gonna poop on you now. Yeah, that’s right. You deserve this.