I'm awake again. It's quiet in the house except for Carl's snoring, but I don't think that's what woke me up. Poor Carl, I must have tired him out with all the things we did today. I should be tired too. I don't know what woke me up, but it happens sometimes, I wake up, restless.

Often when I can't sleep, I lay next to Carl like this, our fur touching, me watching him. He's cute when he's sleeping. He's cute all the time, but asleep, he looks different, more peaceful or something.

When I wake up in the night I can't stop thinking. There are so many thoughts to think. I wonder about what I am. I'm told I'm a dog. I was born in the swimming pool in back of our house. Carl told me about how I was created. He told me the story of how Shake stuck his hand in the pool when he wasn't supposed to. Whatever I am, it has something to do with that and is probably the reason I have such a strange name.

Now I've learned that the way I came to be is not how most dogs are born. Dogs have mothers, and they start out their lives as puppies. I was never a puppy. I can't help but feel like I'm missing out on something.

I know I'm missing a couple of legs. I've got one front leg and one back leg and something that is kind of like a leg and a tail. At least I can get around. I'm probably missing other stuff that I don't even know about. I wasn't created by nature. I'm not really sure if I'm a dog at all. Even my half-brother Spaghetti looked more like a dog than I do.

Dogs don't know how to cook things, but I do.

I don't know how I even know these things, or what I'm supposed to do about it. All I know is my world revolves around Carl. I think I scared him at first by raping him. He tells me no one has ever done that to him before, but I find that hard to believe. He's so soft and cuddly, and I think he smells great too, no matter what anyone says. I don't know why it's been so hard for him to find others of his specie to do what we do together, but I guess I shouldn't complain. It's worked out well for me.

I guess I have a tendency to come on too strong. Apparently, people get upset when you let someone know you like them by raping them. I still don't understand why this is. Maybe it's one of those human/dog cultural differences. I know I have a lot to learn about these things.

Carl has been helping me with this, teaching me stuff about his human history and culture. Like for example, today we listened to his entire collection of Foreigner. It was very educational. I could really relate to that song "Growing Up the Hard Way". Actually, I could relate to a lot of the songs. It's easy to see why Carl likes them. He says that people don't listen to music like that much anymore. I don't know too much about the new music, except that Carl tells me it sucks, so it probably does.

We have a psychic connection that allows me to talk to him. Everyone else says I just yip or bark – not exactly good conversation. It would be pretty lonely for me except that Carl hears me just fine. We talk a lot. He has lots of funny stories he tells me. I could listen to him all day, and I do.

The world outside is scary. Mad scientists plot destruction, monsters like me are being created everywhere, aliens await overhead ready to attack at random. But I like our place. The strong smell of urine around the front door makes me feel safe. Our territory is well-marked. I just wonder why sometimes I have trouble sleeping.