Why do humans holler and threaten me with violence over my addiction? Whyyyy?
I wish I could tell them how wrong their conclusions are about dogs. Just because we can’t talk and we walk on four legs doesn’t mean we don’t nurse broken hearts or struggle with regret over some of our poor choices in life.
I love eating poop. Let’s get that straight. I eat poop for the varying thrill levels it brings me. First, there is that delicious, recycled, chalky, salty flavor of poop smeared on my tongue. It’s an intoxicating elixir! And even though I know it will make me vomit in a matter of hours, my belly is not only full for long moments, but I have found a freeing escape in feeding myself, without having to rely on the kindness of moody humans who can be late with mealtimes or skimpy on portions. As dogs we’re not allowed to earn our own income— even when we work as seeing eye-companions or watchdogs, humans are the ones who get paid— so what a thrill it is to shit out food for myself.
So I’m eating something delicious which is considered off limits— heaven! I’m defying those who think they are smart enough to call themselves my master— awesomeness! I’m providing for my own material needs—hell yeah! And the grand finale of my thrills: I’m convulsing! My head is light, I feel nauseous, another beautiful poop buzz is forming, my mouth makes its own water— magnificent! And the humans? Oh they’re the best! They’re screaming at me: HOLD ON! WAIT! And they’re scrambling, grabbing me by the collar, nearly dragging me out the door as I pedal to keep up. Oh boy! If I wasn’t convulsing I’d explode with giggles. All eyes are on me, everyone is saying my name— HOLD ON, POUNCER! WAIT! And I’m keeping it down, but they’d better hurry! And they open the door and shove me out, yelling— GO GO GO!!
So I run run run off the deck and I heave, heave, heave!! And then— gurgle, gurgle, splat, out comes the vomit! And I’m all like, whew! I made it. And I turn around and the humans are waving at me to come back in, so I smile and run towards them. And they’re all patting me and saying, Good boy, Pounce. You’re a good boy! And I nod happily cuz I love all the petting and head stroking. And I want to give them a high-five but I don’t want to freak anybody out so I just hang my head dumbly and trot to my bed, flopping down like I’m exhausted. But all I’m thinking is, Gosh, what a rush! And I’m already looking forward to when we can do it all over again.
Meanwhile the humans are all like, Why is Pouncer such a dumb dog? Doesn’t he see how sick the poop makes him? I give everybody my best blank, dumb dog stare. But in my head I’m all, BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Suckers!!