My Dog Thinks I'm an Idiot—And He's Not Wrong 🐶🤦♀️
Let me set the scene: I’m sitting on the couch 🛋️, eating a bowl of popcorn 🍿, when my dog, Sir Barksalot (real name: Kevin), stares at me 👀. Not the “I love you” stare. Not the “I’m judging your life choices” stare. No, this is the “How have you survived this long as a species?” stare. And honestly? He’s got a point.
Exhibit A: The Baby Voice Incident 🗣️👶
Every morning, I greet Kevin with a voice so high-pitched it could shatter glass. “Who’s my widdle genius? YOU ARE! Yes, you’re Mama’s smushy-faced angel!” 🥰 Kevin responds by licking his own butt. Translation: “You’re embarrassing us both. Stop.” 🙄
Scientists say dogs understand up to 165 words. Kevin’s vocabulary? Mostly “walk,” “treat,” and “Oh God, she’s singing Let It Go again.” 🎵❄️
Exhibit B: The Great Treat Debacle 🦴
I spent $45 on “gourmet training treats” to teach Kevin to “sit.” He learned in 10 seconds. Then I tried “shake.” He lifted his paw, took the treat, and walked away. When I shouted “SHAKE!” again, he sighed, lifted his paw, and slapped the treat out of my hand. Message received: “I’m not your circus monkey, Karen.” 🎪🐒
Now he “sits” whenever I open the fridge. Not because he’s obedient. Because he knows I’ll cave and toss him cheese. He’s basically my furry little mob boss. 🧀🕴️
Exhibit C: The Emotional Support Paradox 😢
Last week, I cried during a Toy Story 3 marathon. Kevin trotted over, rested his head on my lap, and gave me the “I’m here for you” eyes. I felt loved. Until I realized he was just eyeing my nachos. When I didn’t share, he huffed and stole my socks. 🧦
Dogs are said to sense human emotions. Kevin senses “weakness” and exploits it for snacks. 🍟
Exhibit D: The Walk of Shame 🚶♀️🐕
Our walks are a masterclass in humiliation. I stride confidently, leash in hand, pretending I’m in charge. Kevin, meanwhile, drags me to sniff:
- A fire hydrant (“Ah, Frank was here. Classic.”) 🚰
- A leaf (“This is art.”) 🍃
- A crumpled napkin (“Is this… is this trash? YOU’RE trash.”) 🗑️
When he finally poops, he stares at me while I bag it, as if to say, “You’re literally holding my waste. Who’s the alpha now?” 💩
Exhibit E: The Bedtime Negotiations 🛏️
Every night, I beg Kevin to sleep in his $200 orthopedic dog bed. He responds by flopping onto my pillow, farting, and snoring like a chainsaw. When I whisper “Move… please…” he stretches out further, claiming 90% of the mattress. I end up clinging to the edge like Rose on Titanic. 🚢
The Verdict ⚖️
Kevin thinks I’m an idiot, and I can’t argue. I’ve Googled “why does my dog side-eye me,” bought him a birthday cake 🎂, and once apologized to him for my fart. But here’s the twist: I don’t care. Because for all his judgment, he still wags his tail when I come home, steals my shoes instead of eating the couch, and tolerates my off-key shower concerts. 🚿🎤
So yes, Kevin. You’re smarter. You’re sassier. You’re probably running a secret doggy Illuminati. But I’ve got opposable thumbs 👍 and a credit card 💳, so who’s really winning?
(Spoiler: It’s Kevin.)
Sidebar: Doggy Dictionary 📖🐾
Head tilt: “I don’t understand your nonsense, but I’ll humor you.” 🤔
Paw on your knee: “I own you.” 🐾
Rolling in dead things: “My résumé for Survivor: Canine Edition.” 🦨
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go explain to Kevin why he can’t drink my coffee ☕. Wish me luck. 🍀