WHO SAVED WHO?

Roscoe! Roscoe, off the bed. You know better than that. Bad dog. What the hell’s gotten into you lately? You’re acting crazy. I know what this is. It’s that bumper sticker, isn’t it? Damn it. I only bought the thing because the money goes to the SPCA, you know that. Sure, ‘Who saved who?’ Cute. But let’s not lose sight of the fact that you saved me from being a little lonely, and I saved you from certain death.

You know that, right? That those other dogs, the ones the tech’s led away that never came back, you know what happened to those guys, right? If you didn’t see a family there to take the leash, they fucking killed those guys. Injected them with poison. That would have been you, Roscoe, but I came along. So you stay off the bed, you stay off the couch. I like having you around, but quite frankly you owe be big time. And how do you repay me, by pissing on the floor? Ridiculous. You need to get with the fucking program, dude. Fast.

Sure, it’s nice to have you waiting at the door when I come home. All excited to see me, it’s a good feeling. Sure. I like our walks, I like it when I’m watching TV and curl up at my feet. Very pleasant. But if you weren’t around? I’d be fine. I’d still go for walks, and I wouldn’t have to stop every five seconds for you to sniff something. Without me? Even if I had still adopted you, let’s say, let’s say I just didn’t come home for a couple days. You’d starve to death. Do you realize that? What do you think, you’d hunt something up? First of all, you’re stuck in the house without me. Second, you’re a fucking pug, Roscoe. You can barely find your own foot, you’re going to, what, take down an elk? Big hero? Fuck you, Roscoe. You need me a hell of a lot more than I need you.