I felt a soft rustle by my leg. Standing near me, looking through at my soul, is the world’s cutest dog. Fur white as snow, bushy tail, half an ear brown, I named him Harry, because his fur precisely matched the owl of my favorite book character, which he was named after. He bites me sometimes. Or at least he licks me sometimes. My shoes, my socks, or even my skin. He would go for anything that looked “appealing” to him. That was the very last thing I desired: A thing that would pester me around the clock, but I still showed him respect by occasionally feeding him some meats from my dinner. Then he gets placated by the meat or whatever and stops biting me.
Food and no biting, this is the closest thing we came to “love”.
Inspired by “The Hunger Games” by Suzanne Collins.