Granted. You are now spending less quality time with your dog. Your dog now knows you don’t want to spend time with him, and feels betrayed that you used an entire wish for it. Over time, you drift apart, and your dog stops loving you.

Granted. The dog is caught and put in the pound and you are fined $250. He also defended himself against a chihuahua and you are due in court next month for a trial that will decide if the dog is euthanized and the financial implications of the trauma and damages caused by your dog “mauling” an innocent dog 1/10th his size while he was irresponsibly let loose roaming the streets.

Granted.

Your dog goes out, explores the neighborhood. Day after day he becomes accustomed to the sights, smells, people. They greet him, wave to him, toss him the hot dog bun that fell on the ground. Then toss him the hot dog too after he cocked his head to one side, as if to say you know you want to.

The city becomes his playground, and it’s not long before home changes from a constricting construction of loneliness and laziness to one of the city, of not being owned but owning, and he feels alive in the alleys, the city lights, the comfort of being the best friend to everyone and not just someone who wanted a dog and didn’t wanna spend time with him.

You are barely a fat memory, a blurb of an existence.

Granted, dogs can now walk themselves… on two feet. Now bipedal, they quickly adapt and overthrow humanity. They decide to keep humans as pets. Your dog now takes you out for walks and grumbles about how much easier it would be if you could just walk yourself…

Granted, your dog leaves home and becomes a local celebrity for walking himself. He shares none of the fame and fortune with you, yet you’re still on the hook for his housing and food expenses anyway.