I Became The Dog In An All Female Household Now

I am the dog of this house.

So yes. I am the dog in an all-female household. No alpha energy. No master plan. Just a guy with a heartbeat, a working can opener, and an endless supply of unconditional support. i became the dog in an all female household

Whenever someone comes home, I hear the key in the lock and I launch off the couch. Not because I’m lonely, but because it is my sacred duty to welcome them. “How was work?” I ask. “Traffic sucked,” they reply, already walking past me. I follow them to the kitchen anyway. I am never the one being welcomed. I am the welcome mat with legs. I am the dog of this house

Not literally. But they will decide it’s time for fresh air, grab my arm, and say, “We’re going to the farmer’s market. You’re carrying the bags.” I go. I do not resist. I trot alongside them, slightly behind, holding reusable totes like a Labrador carrying a duck. No alpha energy