You stand outside my den, do you hear my sleeping breath?

Do you smell the bones of my enemies, my trophies of those recent victories?

Step gently lest you wake me from my well-earned sleep.

Do you not know my name?

I am The Dog.

You’ve heard of me.

If you are against me, step gently away from this place.

If you are anxiety, fear, or submission, I will cut you down. It is no easy task, but did you not hear my name?

Ah, you’ve heard the rumors of my dealings with anxiety, fear, and submission.

With anxiety I haven’t always had my way, but even The Dog must battle, and victory is not always certain.

Anxiety is restlessness, depression, and regret. With these I battle, and I am not gentle. These plagues demand my utmost attention, and I give them their due.

Teeth barred and eyes narrowed, I confront anxiety and his villains.

With fear I dance daily. He keeps his blade pressed against my throat, but I always struggle free.

But it is a struggle, and often I bleed, often he takes a lock of my fur with him. But such a dance is necessary, for to ignore fear is to ignore what I am: alive and aware.

I am alive in that I breathe and eat, and I am aware in that I see my reflection and know that I have not seen all the mountains of this world.

He holds me tight and puts his blade against me, but fear is not my master.

Submission is a fool’s life.

It is much better to die painfully in sunshine than to live in the shadow of atyrant, and so I resist submission.

My path is my own, my musings and reflections private, and my ambitions depend not on the meandering desires of any ruler.

Wealth and privilege are not mine, nor do I seek some construed better life outside of my den.

Tyrants are created to be disposed of, and I gladly undertake this task.
Now you know who I am, and who my enemies are.

Be glad to count yourself not among their ranks, be glad your name is not etched in my violent fantasies.

My ambitions are far above bone and blood. These ambitions—desires—are not quiet murmurs in my heart, but savage beatings of a war drum that never rests. And I do not want it to rest.

Let The Dog Eat.

I am nourished only when my ambitions and desires are fully expressed, when I wholly pursue their fulfillment.

No limit, no obstruction, knows my name. There is no difficulty that can alter my course.

So perhaps leave me to sleep.

My dreams are mud and rain, a courageous enemy in my arena, and
victory by gnashing teeth.

You do not want this battle.

But if you’ve come here to hear my story, to walk this path, I welcome your companionship.

The Dog is one piece of a pack, all connected by The Hunger.

Do you feel it inside you?

Can you hear the beatings of your own war drum?

Wait for me, I’m resting.
But when I wake, you and I will

Let The Dog Eat.