“You’re my puppy,” she said. “Yes, I am,” I thought.

She engages in playful banter, tenderly calling me her “puppy” with a smile. Much like a devoted owner, she showers me with attention, gives gentle pats on the head, and at times treats (kisses, of course) when I obediently come running towards her signals.

It’s in those simple gestures – little kisses on my head, licks on my nose, and scratches behind the ears where my metaphorical shut-down button is located.

Her care goes beyond words; it’s visible in how she looks out for me, ensuring my safety. She scolds me if I accidentally hurt myself and assumes a motherly role if I make a foolish mistake.

She makes me do little turns with a specific sound, holding her hand up in the air. I, like a good puppy, follow her command. When I’m acting cute, she immediately goes, “Awwww puppy!” in that specific high tone, and I’m smitten by that sound.

When I try to snuggle into her chest, she playfully shoves me inside her body, both of us being a bit selfish.

She gets close to her puppy, and I get some more space to snuggle in.