I'm turning into a dog.

I've always been a person. Hanging around with my people. Going to dinner parties. Watching TV on the couch. Sleeping in the bed - under the covers. Eating salmon and peanut butter.

But I kinda like being a dog. It's new to me.

My people used to take me to the dog park and I'd just stare up at them. I mean, please. Do we really have to put on this charade? That I'm "a dog". I don't even like dogs. I just want to be with you - lying in bed all day, watching the Colbert Report, going to brunch.

I mean I'll sniff a dog. Try to figure out it's M-O. But I'm not going to befriend a dog. It's beneath me.

They're dopey. They lack intelligence. They have a limited vocabulary.

I much prefer people to dogs. Well mostly. The little ones pull my tail and chase me. And sometimes they just open their mouths and scream bloody murder. It's so unpredictable.

But I've grown to like the little ones despite all their quirks. Why? Because they like to share.

Popcorn

Carrots

Pistachios

Chicken

Cake

They are so generous. They just share & share.

Mom's friend Kristi has a lot of little people at her house. They are called Khaner, Deegan and Ruby. The first little person, Khaner, turned into a big person overnight. Now he doesn't share as much. So I moved on to Deegan.

When Deegan was a baby person I used to give him licks. He'd just sit there defenseless. Then Deegan got old enough to hurl food off the table at me. And I just *hearted* Deegan. Boy oh boy oh boy. That's back when I was bigger than him. Now he likes to pull my tail and chase me. How the tables have turned.

The littlest person is Ruby. She wasn't there and then she was. Now she's my favorite. I just follow her around. Whatever she's got - she'll just hand it over to me. It's a great friendship.

But for now - out here in the brig - I'm embracing my dogness. It's freeing. You can see me and my new haircut here. Don't I just look so liberated?

Sometimes I just climb up on the fence and bark and bark and bark. Just like the other dogs. I mean, I can be vocal too. Why not? I matter. I deserve to be heard.

My mom says there are dogs on all sides of our new house. One on the right. On the left. One in front and one behind. I am excited to bark at them. It'll be just like old times in the brig. Long, boisterous conversations over the fence.

But Mom says I can't do this. That we have to be civilized. Even if other dogs bark, I'm not supposed to bark back. She says I have to turn into my old self again. Pretty and good and all that. Dainty princess. Little lamb.

Well, we'll just see about that.