The Rise of Artificial Stupidity

All my friends vanished down their owners’ rabbit holes.

Photo courtesy of author

Weekends are for hiking. That’s when my senses go into overdrive. The way the wind carries a thousand new stories. I can run around freely and explore the world. Then I go home, eat, and collapse into the best sleep you can imagine.

Weekdays are different. I have a place I visit almost every day. A small patch of grass, nothing fancy, but full of life. My friends were always there, before I arrived, as if they were waiting for me.

When I first moved here, I was eight weeks old. The park was full of potential friends. Some were gentle. Some were … let’s say “more assertive.” They’d shove me around a little bit, but I soon learned my place. And as I grew bigger, I earned their respect . Not just because of my size, but because I knew how to play the game.

And then, one day, they were all gone.

I still go to the park. I still feel that excitement as I get close. But the moment I step in, the truth hits… no friends.

At first, I thought it was bad timing. Maybe they were just late. Maybe they had new walking times. But days have turned into weeks, and the few dogs I saw were the ones that didn’t want to play with me.