It’s Not A Sex Thing, I Just Think It Would Be Fun To Be A Dog

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Alright, let’s just calm down and take a step back. You’re using my words against me, which I find to be a little bit unfair considering how long we’ve been in a relationship. What I meant was that I think it would be fun to be a dog as an escape from the pressures of our society. It is absolutely, definitely, and unequivocally not a sexual desire that I am hoping to act out. I genuinely want to see the world through a dog’s eyes.

We spend so much of our lives obsessing over trivial pursuits, worrying about money, and trying to figure out our next big step. Wouldn’t things be simpler if you were a dog? If you were told what to do? If you were ordered around by a commanding and intimidating woman. And maybe that woman is wearing leather boots and a latex suit. Again, I feel like I need to reiterate that this isn’t a sex thing, it’s more of a philosophical question. I just feel like you aren’t listening to me.

I’m just saying, what if I threw away all of the demands of the modern world and lived like a dog. I think it would be really neat and fun.

For the past fifteen years I’ve been trying to follow in my own father’s footsteps by working my way up the corporate ladder, but it hasn’t brought me any satisfaction. On our deathbeds will we remember landing the big account or the small things that give us pleasure? I’m talking about falling asleep in a sunbeam or running around in the backyard. Or having a strong women in leather put you on a collar and leash, then take me outside for a walk. Outside, where all the neighbors can see. I can feel their eyes on me, judging my nudity and subservience, and I love it. Again, like I’m a dog. This is what dogs do.

I could run out in the morning and fetch the newspaper from the end of the driveway. Then, the women in leather could use it to hit me later in the day if I’ve been bad. Can you imagine the joy of not having to worry about passive aggression, subtext, or the politics of the modern office?

Everything will be reduced to a simple binary, if you don’t get hit you’re being a good boy, if you get hit then Mistress Eva is displeased. You know, like how being a dog works!

Drinking from a water bowl, sleeping in a cage, eating your own excrement – I want it all! Does that make me some sort of sex crazed lunatic? No! I’m just a man sick of the oppressive modern world, and if you’ve got a problem with that then you can take a hike! I am not compromising on who I am or what I want. I want to be a dog! A filthy, worthless, little dog that belongs to Mistress Eva! A worthless dog that will lick her boots and pleasure himself in front of her. But she won’t let me finish, not until-

Okay, I’m beginning to think that maybe it is a sex thing. I’m so sorry.

 

 

Jon Plester is a writer, comedian, and filmmaker from Philly. He hopes to grow up and be a strong boy sometime soon.

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