The female human in my life is in control and she runs the household. I’m the fixture who stays in its place. I respond on command. I sit on command and I eat when she’s ready to feed me. I even have to wait to go to the bathroom. I have to wear dumb sh!t on my head like this. It’s almost criminal. I’m dependent on her for everything but she can’t claim me on her taxes at the end of the year, unless she opens a LLC.
I’m A Human Pet
I’m the unfortunate K9 used for protection and his good looks. I keep her company when other male humans don’t wanna hang out with her but I’m not even allowed to claim a particular side of the bed. She said, “I shed too much hair.” The sooner I realize this to be completely factual any peace of mind on my end will be non existent especially until she finds something else to complain about and that’s every day. I guess it is what it is until I can do better. I could run away but baby it’s cold outside. So for now I just stay in my lane and keep my head down until the summer time when the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. Or I could wait until her cellphone rings, again. That’s when I get to feel some type of a way and I sit next to her feet to sense if she’s enjoying herself while talking to another male human. If she’s talking to one of her girlfriends I’ll go into the bathroom and sit on her wash rag and watch her smell it afterwards and make that thing she does with her face. Trust me, it’s a priceless expression.
I realize I could be easily replaced. I’m not sure what a dawg like me is to do. I don’t have anyone nor another dawg friend to roll around in the dirt with. She mumbled something about, “Homie don’t play that.” Do you feel my pain or am I just trippin’? What does that mean anyway? Can you help me with my dilemma?
It’s all about her control over my life and the perceived notion of me being in control of my life. Severe punishment and repercussions will be served if I take matters into my own pawns. If I urinate on her sheets to prove my point I just may find myself displaced unto the streets in the dead cold of winter in the night. What else? Oh, my master feeds me when she’s ready. Yep, that part. Wait… That doesn’t make any sense. Hmm, I don’t own a pet but sometimes I sure feel like one. However, I’ve learned over the years if I wish to get along with my significant other I’m gonna have to be man-pet in this relationship unit I can walk and feed myself. Am I wrong for having feelings? Would you consider this to be a valid dilemma? Or am I bugging’? By the way, my name is, “Niggah get a job, already.” I think… I know that’s a mouthful but you can’t make this sh!t up. Wait! Sometimes she calls me, “Ungrateful lil bastard.” She never smiles when she calls me that. Oh boy, now I have to go to the bathroom. What is a dawg to do?
I’m A Human Pet