17 Things Your Dog Would Tell You If They Could Talk

You and your dog probably already communicate pretty well. You know you love each other, at least, right? But what would your dog actually say, if he could form actual English words? We have you covered. Here are 18 things your dog would definitely tell you if they could talk.

Not in a sexist way or anything. This goes for men, too. We dogs just really love it when people smile—science says so and everything,

It's nothing personal. I just can't tell you're you on that tiny cellphone screen.

Seriously, do you want to know the secret to winning me over and being my favorite person in the whole world? Just spend more time with me than anyone else does. Easy peasy.

You know, the one you're always hugging and kissing. Hugging and kissing is our thing, so please don't do it with anyone else ever, k?

I'm not proud of it (I mean, I'm also not not proud of it—I'm a dog), but I get jealous when you spend time with other dogs. Or when you give attention to other dogs. Or when you look too long at other dogs. Just stop acknowledging the existence of other dogs to be safe, okay?

I know sometime it annoys you when I sit on you or rub against you incessantly, but I'm just trying to make sure you smell like me so all the other dogs you might meet during the day (and I know you meet them because I can smell them on you when you get home, you lousy cheater) know that you belong to me.

You keep saying it. Science keeps saying it. So let's just hang out together forever, right? You don't need anyone else.

I might not be able to talk back (until now—this article is great!), but I love it when you talk to me. You know how you talk to a baby, in a high-pitched, super sweet voice? That's the voice I like. Use that voice.

You're always asking why I do this, so let's just clear the air: I walk in circles before I lie down because it's a thing wolves do and I still have some of those wolf-like instincts. I'm ferocious like that.

You know that game you humans think is so funny, where you pretend to throw a tennis ball but then you didn't really throw it and I think you did and I chase after it like an idiot and then you laugh like you're so clever? Well, I might not know what's up right away, but I do catch on and I don't appreciate the mockery. Eventually, I won't chase your stupid ball. Who's laughing now?

I do. I can smell it on you and I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed.

I didn't know what kisses were until I met you and I still think they're a little awkward, TBH, but you seem to like it and I like to make you happy.

I just don't have access to toilet paper or, you know, opposable thumbs, so I have to clean it off with what I have access to—my tongue or your carpet. Or you could invest in some wet wipes. Your call.

Everyone thinks that if my tail is wagging, I must be happy and want to be touched, but if I'm wagging my tail low to the ground, please give me some space. Or else.

Usually anyway. Sure, it could mean something else, but usually it's just a sign that I'm super content. That's why I do it so darn much.

Including literally lick your wounds. I JUST WANT TO HELP. PLEASE LET ME HELP.

Is it sappy? Sure. Is it true? You bet.