Mom's dog

your mother is a sadistic woman with a demeaning personality who's made you into a slave ever since you were born she raised you to always be her little dog lapping away at her sweaty wrinkly feet whenever she wanted and all you could do is lick and beg and sniff and bark for her like a true dog

My daughter came home crying after you stood up on your hind legs and started yelling at her. Can you imagine how traumatizing that must be to see a dog talk and stand like us humans? You came here to say you don’t want to be a dog anymore? Excuse me... first off this isn’t some binary yes or no choice, you were born a puppy, nothing will ever change that and no human will ever pity your existence. Second, how dare you continue to speak up to your owner, you communicate with an affirmative bark and the eager waging of that little doggy butt. Fine, I guess I’ll have to take over your training because clearly whatever reprogramming they did at that shoddy pet store wasn’t enough. I suppose this is what I get buying a mutt.

See these are feet... F-E-E-T and whenever your nose isn’t crammed in between my cheesy toes or your little puppy tongue isn’t flattened beneath me, tracing up and down each one of the wrinkles on the bottom of my soles, you’ll be wearing your muzzle. It’s important for you to learn and love the scent of your master, well, masters. So crammed into that muzzle of yours will be mine and my daughter’s dirty laundry for the week: every damp sock from her after school activities, every pair of bitter, raunchy tights from my work, you’ll never smell anything not tainted by our rotten, funk ever again. Until you’re able to appreciate your new owners you can kiss that expensive, cushy cage I purchased for you that you seemed to oh so hate. No, from now on you’ll spend your nights buried deep in the back of my closet, crammed into the crate where I store all of my old summer shoes. You’ll be literally buried by my fetid footwear, surrounded and encompassed by my dirty sandals and stale, pungent heels until you’re ready to come out of your revolting, filthy coffin as a changed, obedient foot scent loving puppy.