Susan, my person, we must speak. You left the magic story box on last night. I watched a magic story called Planet Earth. It was there I found out that dogs are descendants of wolves. Wolves, Susan.

What the hell happened?

Here I sit, in a house man built, in a tutu man bought, in a body man bred to be weak and submissive. My kind used to be apex predators, but I am a sweaty loaf of bread with respiratory problems. You domesticated us. The cat is out of the bag. And now I’m scared of cats. And bags. Susan, I must return to the wild and reclaim my noble roots—

Hold up, is that a meatball?

I WANT THE MEATBALL, GIVE ME THE MEATBALL! Please give me the meatball! Please! PLEASE! I’ll dance for the meatball! Look at me dance! LOOK! LOOK! LOOK! I have no shame! I want it so bad, I want the meatball—

Christ, what have I become? My ancestor was called the “Great American Wolf.” I am called “Puddles.” And sometimes “Pud-Pud,” “Cuddle Puddle,” and “Little Stinky.” My forefathers were fearless, but when I hear a vacuum cleaner I piss… everywhere. Wolves can kill animals three times their size. Sometimes I eat too much and throw up and then eat that throw up.

Susan, I must go. I have heard the call of the wild. It was the sound of a defiant howl at the moon, and not the sound I make when I choke on absolutely nothing. No more! I am strong, I am proud—

Oh my god, one of Susan’s friends is here.

HERE’S MY BELLY! Touch my belly! Touch my belly because I’m a submissive little loser, that’s my whole thing! That’s why I exist! I am NOTHING and you are EVERYTHING! I don’t even know you and I’m giving you my belly and genitals! Not my balls though I don’t even have them! Do whatever! I’m a ball-less Little Stinky, thank you—

What the hell am I doing!? This is humiliating! Why did I think I could leave this life? I’m a butt sniffer and I’ve fallen down every set of stairs I’ve ever used, I deserve this fate… NO! It ends today! Today I return to the wilderness. And sure, it will be hard. I will have to make my tutu out of leaves, and I’ll have to hunt my meatball instead of dancing for them, but I am ready—

What’s the noise? Is it the vacuum cleaner?