Dear bastards,

Ok, I give up. You win. I concede the election, though I still believe it was rigged.

I accept I am that Pathetic Dog Guy. The spoiling, fawning, ‘aren’t-they-just-the-cutest’ dog guy who believes his animal is the most adorable thing to pad the Earth. Yeah, I just went there.

You are dogs, and you belong to me. And you are never leaving. There, I said it. You can take your ‘animals are like kids’ bullcrap and your free-range wokeism and file a complaint at the bottom of your food dish.

Speaking of which, it was empty tonight after dinner. So I went to Instacart to have two boxes of your favorite sent pronto (1-1/2 hours later). It sits above the stove for tomorrow.

And I am looking at the receipt. It’s for two boxes of dog food and a Gatorade Zero 8-pack, which I bought just not to look like That Dog Guy. Like that was gonna fool Mauricio.

So I surrender. I was foolish to think I could invade your worlds and win hearts and minds with a show of force. I am Putin with a poop bag.

BUT if Instacart were not an option, you’d never find me in a supermarket with more dog food than people food. Okay, maybe so. BUT you’d never find me walking through the parking lot during the daytime with that haul. Ok, maybe so. BUT…

Oh bark off.