#dogthoughts

“With the life that u live?

Do I make ur tail wag

From the love that I give?

Does ur heart skip a beat

When I call out ur name?

Do u like what I feed u

Even when it’s the same?

When u take a big snooze,

Do u dream about me?

Or, better yet,

Do u dream about 𝘸𝘦?

Do u smile inside

When we both reunite,

R u happy to see me,

Do u bark with delight?”

My answer is simple.

It’s easy to say—

I dare not imagine life

Any other way.

L͜͡e͜͡o͜͡n͜͡ v͜͡a͜͡n͜͡ S͜͡a͜͡m͜͡

Cerberus’ eyes follow the footfalls of the lady that Master let’s in. He bites back the growl that threatens to slip free and instead lets his expressive eyes convey his disdain for this last night visitor. Once they are out of sight he realese a heavy sigh needing to expel some of tension that came upon seeing who the visitor was. Needing to work put some frustration Cerberus stretches over and grabs his favorite bone. As he chews his mind begins to ponder it all .

Cerberus’ inner mussings:

Master is funny one

He cares for me and others well but not self.

When warn him about the bad things makes me bad boy.

That lady that smells like musk and flowers she is a bad thing.

Master likes to fix things but somethings don’t heal right.

Lady makes me think of cat next door.

Looks nice and fun from far away but get close and it is mean and hurts!

I think Master thinks her like Corden Bleu but Corden Bleu doesn’t hurt Master like lady does.

I want to bark and chase her out but be bad dog if do.

Must lay and wait be on best guard.

Wish Master would help other lady that smells like honey and sunshine.

She needs care.

She is sad but cares lots like Master.

Master should pack her!

Pack is family!

Pack protects pack!

Honey lady no tell on me.

She calls me her good boy when protect.

Gives yummy sandwich reward too!

Hope Master sees honey lady again.

She make Master happy.

He playing weird game.

Why he do things that hurt?

Master has no sense.

Master is strange.

Yawns letting the bone fall from between his paws halving relaxed enough to feel the tug of sleep on his senses. He quickly shakes his head to snap himself out of the drowsiness.

But I still can't shake the idea that I'm playing a functional role when I'm interacting with people. Even in relationships, I act more like a personal psychologist or mother to my partner. Or is it that my love language is intelligence, which is expressed in a long discussion of abstract concepts or a joint in-depth analysis of media products, but in return I receive "love" (if I understand correctly what love means) and some semblance of support (I still can't be sad, because my partner is quite empathic and after trying to share dark thoughts, I just calm him down, also being in a knocked out state.)

I don't want to hear that a planned economy is better than a market economy, and the whole world will soon be covered by a nuclear explosion. Or that the communists are too dreamy and do not take into account human biology in their fantasies about an ideal political system. I don't want to be helped, I don't want to watch your boring blockbuster movies, go clubbing with you so you don't get scared alone, figure out how to entertain you on the weekends, or tolerate your awkward looks when I try to talk about something personal, and I get a simple "yes, it's exhausting, babe." I don't want to listen to your horrible gossip or rumors about people I don't know, to figure out who fucked whom, and to hear about your mental disorders with which you justify all your negative qualities. Don't get me wrong, I'd be more tolerant of this if you didn't fill up all your free smalltalk time and at least sometimes listen to me in response.

People are damn boring, because all the human connections I'm confused about involve performing functions without a hint of depth.