I feel like my dog is SUCH a good example of what it would be like if I had a child. Like, he would refer to my mother as "Mom" and refer to me as my first name or something. He's also like ill behaved, and disobedient and has psychological problems, but it's like..."fun." Like, he went to the groomer, and they called me and they were like, "Um, ma'am, you're going to have to come pick up your dog, he bit someone." Like, I'll stay out at night, and like feel sad that I am not with my dog and then like drive home wasted or something because I need to see him right away, and he probably thinks I'm a mess and resents me, but anyway the point is, one of the highlights of my day is, he's really obsessed with his bone because I got him when he was a baby, he was like starving on an indian reservation in the winter, so he like...he's really possessive about his shit or whatever, and I like stealing his bone from him, or trying to steal it because he like freaks the fuck out. He tries to guard it with one paw, and then the other with all of his weight, and then like he'll start snarling, and air biting and I know it SOUNDS scary, but it's actually really funny. So, yeah, so, I look forward to trying to steal his bone at night, lol, it's like our "fun" time together, I can't find his fucking bone because he like went outside and buried it so now we can't like have fun play time and I feel anxious and depressed, lol.
Does this story make sense? Probably not. Was it worth telling this story? ABSOLUTELY not.