Meet Sloeber— maybe better known as Slob—and he is a four-legged bundle of chaos that somehow mirrors my personality a little too well.

He is a dachshund, and he has the confidence of a wolf and the stubbornness of a toddler who’s just discovered the word ‘no’. And Slob does not want to walk.

No, he struts, as if the pavement was personally laid down for him. He does not fetch the ball. Oh no, he just delegates it. And food? He feels that canned food is for “lesser beings”. Oh, he’ll eat it, but only if it’s served in a manner befitting his self-declared royalty. He’d rather have Wagyu-beef, and only if it is spelled like this: 和牛

And on a particular day, I decided to take Slob for a “walk” in the park. As you know, that is a place where other dogs frolic, and chase sticks, and, you know, act like dogs.

Not Slob. The moment that we arrived, he scanned the scene like a gamer searching for hidden loot. And when he spotted a Great Dane, he marched up with all the swagger that his stubby lil’ legs could muster and he barked once. Just once.

As if to say, “Know your place”, my lowborn friend. And the Dane was clearly confused by this sausage-shaped Napoleon, and he froze. And Slob was satisfied with his power move, and he turned and walked off without giving him a second glance.