I stared at my dog curiously. What is he thinking about? I always asked myself that. I mean, what could he think about? What if he hates me? I yelled at him all the time, so wouldn't he? I would never have harmed him, of course, but I treated him as I would a person. I vented to him. He's the only one I could do that with and completely trust him with all of my darkest secrets.
My therapist told me I should vent when ever I could and avoid penting up all these negative emotions. My depression pills were prescribed to me along with this dog and my life was showing instant improvement. Still, I couldn't help but wonder if he hated me. The only thing I knew for sure is that he's the most reliable entity on this planet.
Dog's Pov:
OH NO'S HOOMANS CRYIN
MUST GIVE LICKS
HOP ON LAP
YOU ARE READING
Random Drabbles
Random95% of these will most likely be ideas that my brain thought up at 3:00 a.m. in a fever-dream state. This may include anything from fandom trash to hardcore philosophy to heartbreaking "love stories". p.s. this will contain a lot of gayness
