Harry Manilow’s 20 Confessions That Will Make You Re-Evaluate Everything

I once stole the cat’s catnip kicker, shredded it like evidence, rolled in the remains, and then spent the entire night pacing the hallway convinced I was both the hunter and the hunted. At one point I tried to warn the ceiling fan about itself.

I will pass gas so aggressively that the room changes temperature, then stare at my sister with such wounded disbelief that she starts apologizing to me.

Sometimes I bark at nothing because nothing has been getting away with too much lately and I needed it to know I’m watching.

I have launched myself through the house at full speed, ricocheting off furniture like a pinball of bad decisions, purely because a thought entered my head and I could not outrun it.

I absolutely hear my name every time it’s said. I simply decide whether or not it aligns with my current emotional arc.

I once dropped a toy off the couch, stared at it, screamed into the void, and when a human picked it up I acted like they had misunderstood everything about me.

I have stepped directly on another dog’s face while climbing onto the couch and then paused, offended, that their skull was where my foot needed to be.

I will ask to go outside like it’s a matter of life and death, immediately forget why I’m there, and then howl to be let back in as if I’ve been banished by cruel forces.

I have barked at my reflection, startled myself with my own power, and then strutted away like I won something.

I have eaten things I should not eat while maintaining eye contact because fear is a bonding experience.

I will bring you a toy, shove it into your leg, and if you touch it I will react like you just crossed an international boundary.

I once stared at a corner for so long that everyone else got uncomfortable and I refused to explain myself.

I sigh like a war veteran even though my biggest hardship that day was mild inconvenience.

I have begged for food, rejected it upon delivery, and then stared at it angrily as if it personally disappointed me.

I will climb onto someone’s chest while they’re sleeping to check if they are still alive and devoted to me.

I bark at delivery drivers with such conviction that I briefly believe I am the last line of defense for civilization.

I steal socks, underwear, and emotional support garments not to chew—but to curate.

I will pretend to be asleep during responsibility hours, but the moment I hear a bag crinkle I return from the dead.

Sometimes I stand in the middle of the room and scream. There is no reason. The scream simply needs to exit my body.

Every morning I wake up, look around, assess the situation, and decide whether today is a “peace” day or a “make them remember me” day.

— Harry Manilow

Not a dog.

An experience.