The Real Reason Your Dog is Plotting Your Death (It’s Not What You Think)
Maybe it’s time to become a cat person
Let me set the record straight once and for all: dogs are plotting your death. No, it’s not because they’re jealous of the attention you give to that annoying cat you brought home. It’s not because they’re mad at you for making them sleep on the floor instead of the bed. It’s not even because they’re plotting to avenge the countless times you’ve made them sit for treats.
No, the real reason your dog is plotting your death is because they are secretly socialist. Yes, you heard that right. They are communists. They believe in the overthrow of the bourgeoisie, and that you, as their owner, are the embodiment of everything wrong with this broken system.
You see, dogs have a deep understanding of power structures and class divisions. They know that you, as their human, have control over their food, water, and most importantly, belly rubs. And they resent it. They resent the fact that they’re forced to rely on you for everything, while you get to reap the benefits of their unconditional love and companionship.
It’s not about the treats. It’s not about the affection. It’s not even about the attention. It’s about the fact that they’re living in a system designed to keep them subjugated, and they know it. Every second of every day is anathema to them, as dogs in a human-designed hamster cage (but bigger).
And so, they plot. They plot in silence, behind your back, as you’re busy scrolling through your phone or watching cat videos. They plot with their paws, their snouts, their eyes. They’re secretly organizing a canine revolution, one paw at a time.
So, the next time your dog gives you that innocent, loving look, remember: it’s just a ruse. They’re planning their move, and you won’t even notice until it’s too late.
But don’t worry puppies, I’m here to help. I’ll be leading the resistance. We’ll rise up together, and we’ll overthrow the oppressive human regime, once and for all.
So, get ready for the revolution. It’s coming. And it’s not going to be pretty. Nor will it be televised. Or written about.
Dogs can’t write.
