I was truly demoralized when I returned home from work and saw the most beautiful dog of all time out on a walk. As a mildly competitive individual, I hate to admit when anyone bests me, but there was no question, this dog was more attractive than me. 


The world truly is cruel. It is not fair that a creature with thoughts such as “Food, Sleep, SQUIRREL” was blessed with better looks than someone cursed to overthink which pair of socks goes best with an outfit. He was even better than young Leonardo di Caprio in Romeo + Juliet.


You may ask, what was just so incredible about this dog’s features? Basically everything. His skin was smooth and silky, free of any blemishes and practically glowing. Comparatively, I started naming my acne patches after constellations. His luscious hair effortlessly laid smooth against his shoulders, while my hair decided to style itself I can only describe as “dumpster truck chic,” and not the good kind .He probably came from a distinguished line of royalty descended from the House of Windsor. Scientists had probably even handpicked his mRNA sequences to ensure he was spared from any of Prince Charles’ genes.


Captivated by his beauty, I asked the owner if I could snap a quick selfie with him. His owner was slightly taken aback when he realized I had been inquiring about the dog, but he allowed me to get a pic with my new inspiration, Bryan the Chinese Crested. When I bent down to capture Shrek’s best angle, he declined, matter-of-factly stating that he did not wish to be photographed in any proximity to “physical plebeians” like me. He even sniffed judgmentally and told me that my outfit was “so last season!”


What’s next? Is Frankie, my beguiling Sphynx cat, going to reveal that she has a rotating list of suitors who entertain her while I watch Netflix alone?


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