Puppy Stream of Consciousness

Awake! I am awake. Where am I? Bed, bone, bars… crate. I am in my crate. Bone. Chew. Chew on bone. All this chew on bone makes me sleepy. Very sleepy… 

Awake! I am awake. Where am I? Bed, bone, bars… crate. I am in my crate. O’ glorious God free me from my captivity. Aye, “to live is to suffer;” I have succumbed to Nietzche’s diagnosis. Merciful captor, please release me from this prison. Why must you lock me in here with nothing but my own thoughts and a mere single bone? Bone. Chew the bone. Must chew the bone. All this chew on bone makes me sleepy. Very sleepy… 

Awake! I am awake. Where am I? Grass, bacon, squirrels, belly rub… Awake! Where am I? My crate. Wait no take me back! Please take me back!

Here comes the human. Crate time is over! Okay, let’s go outside. Remember: play outside, potty inside. Wait no, pee outside, poo inside. Wait no, play inside, eat dirt outside. Hmm, what’s that smell? Smells like peaches. Peach. Impeach. When will the Dems grow a pair and impeach the president? I know the Republicans in the Senate will probably block the conviction, but is that a valid reason to halt the process of democratic justice? Clearly the optimal next move in all this chaos is for me to catch my tail! Almost got it. Stop running away, you stupid little rat. I could do it earlier, I swear.

Okay, time to get petted. Good pets. Good pets. Mmm delicious finger. Bite the finger. Why did the good pets stop? Stop biting the finger. I sit now. Good pets again. What’d you say? Who’s a good girl? How should I know that? I didn’t realize this is a participatory thing. In fact, the entire concept of a “good girl” is extremely patronizing, borderline sexist. What does “good girl” mean, and why should I have to adhere to that definition? I mean seriously, would you call a K-9— oh I’m the good girl? Well, thank you. I, I really don’t know what to say. Um, ruff ruff!

Okay, time for dinner. I’m thinking pizza? Nah, too greasy. Kibble? Yeah, kibble sounds good.

Oh, another smell. I don’t like this smell. What’s this smell? Paranoia. I feel like I’m being watched. I already chewed through the power chord for the Amazon Echo, so it’s not that. Hey, what are you writing down? Stop that! Wait, have you been reading my mind this entire time? You can’t publish this on that stupid website of yours! This is my intellectual property! Copyright 2019 by your puppy. I mean it. You can expect a hostile call from my lawyer. His name is Mort Fleischmann, he went to NYU law, and he is a pug.