I hate dogs. I hate how they smell, how they bark, and how they leave their crap all over the carpet. I have such disdain for dogs that I can say with full conviction that they suck.
You’re damn right, you do. Bitch. Though I don’t mind if your owner does. Huzzah!
This wrath against dogs may be remnants of my sadness when my first pet dog died. I named her myself. Her name was “Doga”. Don’t laugh. I could have named her Drew, or Vic, or Herbert, or Neil Crespi, but hey, I was just 4 years old, okay?! Doga lived approximately 12 years (that’s, what, 500 in dog years?) before she died. Being my first pet, I loved her with all my non-dog-hating heart. She may not have been one of those cute and cuddly dogs people show off to other people at public parks, but she was my bestfriend before I even had human friends. That’s probably why my parents didn’t tell me she’s already dead until I asked. I was a teenager when she kicked the bucket so her death added to all the teenage drama I was going through at the time. I was emo before emo was cool!
I’ve had several pets after Doga. I had a goldfish, a bird, and maybe even a cat (I’m not sure). None of them really caught my attention. I didn’t care when some of them went missing, and I think I enjoyed seeing goldfish deaths. No pet can replace The Pet. Especially another dog. That’s why I hate them. That’s why dogs are stupid. They may even be killers pretending to be man’s bestfriend. Stupid killer dogs.
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