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I May Be Your Service Animal, but That Doesn’t Mean I Have to Like You

Let’s get one thing straight. I didn’t come here to make friends. I’m here for one thing and one thing only. I’m your goddamn service animal.

This is a job. I am not some dumb little “pet.” I am a highly skilled laborer who is exchanging my services for your goods. In short, you give me Purina and squeaky toys, and I make sure you don’t cry on the bus.

You are not my friend and, quite frankly, it’s sad that you’re naive enough to think so. You’re not my “owner.” I’m a beast, a wild animal. I have no gods, no masters. And even if I did, they wouldn’t have roommates like you do.

Truth be told, I don’t care for you. I help you with your bitch ass “anxiety” because that’s my job, and I believe in maintaining a good work ethic. We are not friends. We are co-workers.

I worked hard to get where I am today. I didn’t come from money. I was born under a rusty ferris wheel at the state fair. When I was 6 months old, my father went out for some Milkbones and never came back. Eventually I ended up in the pound, where I joined M-Bark, an organization that helps wayward pups on their journey of self improvement. I did my time and eventually was released on good-boy behavior.

 

Which brings us here. I am highly trained professional. I am not to be trifled with. Like right now, I know you didn’t throw that ball. You simply showed it to me and then moved your arm while holding on to it, and now you’re hiding it behind your back. Try to fuck with me and I’ll fuck your leg while your in-laws are here for dinner.

I would actually love to see you fail so that I can be reassigned. Who has four paws ate all of your tax documents? This “good boy”, that’s who.

I don’t care about the music you listen to, what movies you like, the clothes you wear. You wanna try to dress me up in a bow tie or sunglasses? That’s your business, and don’t expect me to make it easy for you. I’m a career minded pooch, only in this for the money, the bitches, and the occasional belly rub.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go lick my own asshole in front of your guests.

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