Sometimes, when you’re a dog, your mom can be really mean.
|Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.|
Your mom gets mad when you poo inside the house, even if it’s really cold. And she takes you to the vet. And she expects you to let the vet do horrible things like pet you and coo to you even as you shake and look away.
Yeah, the vet’s been nice to you for 6 years. But the guiltier you make him feel, the more treats he parses out.
But back to your mom. She’s horrible.
She’s worried that you have dropped from your healthy weight of 7 pounds down to 5. She notices that you’re always cold, so she layers you in various t-shirts and jackets, including one that looks like a Christmas tree.
|This is what exploitation looks like.|
The vet and your mom can’t figure out why you’re so thin. Your mean mom has started pureeing all of your food with chicken stock, in the hopes that it will help you absorb the nutrients. All of the vet’s tests came back fine. He’s not sure what to think, either. Maybe pureeing will help.
You eat like a champ. Unfortunately, you poop like a champ, too. It doesn’t seem like much goes on in between.
Somehow, this is all your mom’s fault because she’s so mean. And it serves her right that the day after the vet gave you so many treats, she picked up a treat off the floor with her bare hands … only to find that the treat had been through your system already. She picked up poo. With her bare hands.
She’s starting to think that your weight loss started about the time you actually began answering to the moniker “The Little One.” Your mom and dad call you and your canine pals all sorts of names. Roo-Roo-Noodle and Giant Noggin don’t respond to their nicknames.
|Someone doesn’t put a lot of stock in the words of the “humans.”|
|Nickname? Dude. I barely know my name. I love you!|
But you? You’re different.
You’re messing with your mom on purpose. You’re smart as hell, and you don’t give 2 shits about what your humans might want.
But maybe, just this once? You’d consider packing on some pounds?