I’ve stopped trying to be the alpha. I’ve stopped needing to lead. Instead, I’ve leaned into my role. I fetch things from high shelves. I sit at their feet during movie nights. I once let Jess cry into my shoulder for an hour about her ex, and I didn’t say a single word. Just sat there. Like a very good boy.
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’ve stopped trying to be the alpha
The cats are the women. They are elegant, independent, and territorial. They take long baths, leave cryptic sticky notes on the fridge (“Who finished the hummus? 👀”), and can go silent for hours while radiating judgment. I, on the other hand, am the dog. I fetch things from high shelves