People who comment on Facebook community pages, and Disney adults, and dog moms and dads are all the same people. It’s one gigantic group of self-unaware weirdies who are so out of touch with the internet that they believe their posts are validation to their own insanity.
Look, I love dogs. I love your dog actually. I love seeing dogs out in the wild. I love seeing posts of dogs. I, too, have a weird voice that involuntarily comes out when I’m interacting with a dog. But they are not children.
So keep your “fur baby’s” Instagram request the fuck away from me. You wanna post your dog then post your dog? But I count be held accountable to you taking offense of my friend request rejection from a creature that doesn’t even have opposable thumbs. And the captions? Oh God. Where you pretend the dog is saying the caption and change your “r’s” to “w’s”. Where is your shame? You weren’t made fun of enough as a child. People can see this. I will never be Instagram Furiends with you. Ever.
I’m assuming it’s because we’re pushing thirty and none of us have kids. Unless you oopsie’d in high school or something. For the last 100 years or so we were told your twenties and early thirties are your baby making years. That threshold seems to have been pushed back. Which I don’t give fuck, do whatever you want with your timeline. But don’t put a fucking bonnet on a dog and shove it down my throat because feel like playing house.
Making dogs pets is top three things humans ever decided to do. We love them, we baby them, and they love us back unconditionally. But you are not their mom or dad. You’re lonely and unfulfilled.
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