I am not a pet.
I may be half-canine, yes, but I am, may I reiterate, not a pet.
A girl I met in the market and conversed with regarding fine cuts of steak and how best to cook them invited me to her home today. I was skeptical at first, seeing as usually this sort of invitation led to certain things and it was rather obvious I was crippled, but I decided to assume platonic intent and follow her to her home for dinner. I was running low on funds due to a work drought and figured I couldn't pass up a free meal, especially if steak was involved. When I got there all seemed well. I seated my wheelchair at the table and awaited food... Only to be suddenly assailed by a youth entering the room suddenly. They tackled me to the ground and almost broke a bone, I think, one of mine that is. They pet me without my consent, even going so far as to reach for my stomach and try to rub it. After gently using my telekinesis to remove them from my person, the girl from earlier came in and scolded the child...
...Only to ask me if I wanted to eat and drink out of a bowl when dinner finally started. I didn't really stay to find out if the child was hers or one she was babysitting. I excused myself right after dinner was over. By the gods, the conversation was embarrassing. She asked me if I'd ever worn a leash before, if it was true that dogs hated cats, and some other stereotypical and uncomfortable questions that are too many to list. I am a good boy, but I am not THAT kind of good boy. I'm a dignified gentleman who sleeps in the proper beds, unlike certain catfolk, thank you very much. Anyways, vent over. Thank you for listening, my faithful pages.