Being a dog used to mean something. We were loved. Appreciated. Treated like four-legged royalty. It was for a good reason, of course. Through every canine's blood courses the spirit of a wolf and that demands a certain level of respect. Somewhere along the line -- between Canis Lupus to Canis Lupus Familiaris -- things changed. We traded our dignity for the answer to a single question: "who's a good boy?"
Domesticity signified a shift in our existence. Our collars became not canine crowns, but tokens of our struggle. No longer wild. No longer free. Instead, two square walks a day and a busted tennis ball to pass the time.
via destructoid http://ift.tt/2onx3Tf