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Conversations with my dog: An exclusive Interview with the fluffy therapist

My dog may be dramatic, slightly unhinged, and have the judgmental stare of a Victorian ghost, but he’s also my best friend. And sure, he can’t actually talk—but if he could, I’m pretty sure this is exactly how it would go:  (BTW, I gave him a treat as a bribe just in case.)

Me: Thank you for sitting down with me today. I know your schedule is jam-packed with barking at nothing and dramatic sighing.

My Dog: [Licks own butt.] You’re welcome. I had to cancel a very important nap for this, so let’s make it quick.

Me: Let’s get right to it. Why do you bark at the mailman? Every. Single. Day.

My Dog: Because he dares to show up uninvited, and then—get this—he leaves. Suspicious behavior. I’m protecting the nation. You’re welcome.

Me: Okay, but he’s literally here every day. You know him.

My Dog: Exactly. It’s always the ones you think you know.

Me: Fair. Moving on. Why do you insist on sitting directly on me even though you’re 60 pounds of pure dog?

My Dog: You are my chosen throne. You should be honored. Also, it’s warm.

Me: I’m flattered. Uncomfortable, but flattered. Let’s talk about your food obsession. Why do you act like you’ve never eaten before… even when you just did?

My Dog: Look, every meal could be my last. I live life on the edge. Also, your snacks smell way better than my kibble.

Me: That’s because they are. You’ve stolen pizza crusts, chewed on an entire sock, and once licked my lip gloss. Any regrets?

My Dog: Zero. I would do it again. And I will.

Me: Bold of you. Alright, final question. What do you think of me as your owner?

My Dog: You are the provider of snacks, the giver of belly rubs, and the supreme thrower of tennis balls. I love you more than squirrels hate peace. But also… you talk too much.

Me: [Sniffs dramatically.] I love you too, you sassy loaf of fur.

My Dog: Now give me a treat or I’m most def pooping in your shoe.




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