Let’s talk about Tank.
No, not a war machine. Not a gym bro. I mean Tank, my 90-pound potato of a dog who might just be the dumbest living creature on four legs… and also the most loyal goofball to ever snort through a walk.
He doesn’t walk behind me. Oh no. He prances. Like he’s in a royal parade and I’m his personal goddamn chariot. Every step is a bouncy, clueless march of pride. People point. Children giggle. Old ladies wave. Tank doesn't care. He's too busy being the main character.
Butt Sniffing Protocol (That He Does NOT Follow)
Now Tank loves other dogs. Loves to sniff their butts like he’s checking their credit scores. But here’s the kicker — don’t you dare sniff his. That’s a no-no. One whiff near his precious backside and suddenly Mr. Derp becomes Mr. Defense Attorney: barking, snapping, filing restraining orders.
But does he snap at people? Never. Not once. He’s a people person. A golden retriever soul in a thick-skulled body. He’d let a toddler ride him into battle. He’d help your grandma carry groceries. But dogs? Dogs need to back. it. up.
Unless it’s Ranger. Ranger is his homie. His day-one. They’re the bromance you didn’t know you needed. It’s Tank and Ranger against the world — or at least the mailman.
Not Smart, Just... Present
Let’s be real: Tank doesn’t know how to sit unless food is involved. He thinks every Amazon box is for him. He once barked at a cucumber for three full minutes. But if I leave a room, he panics like I’ve been kidnapped by squirrels.
And honestly? I wouldn’t trade him for the world.
Because at the end of the day, this big, dumb loaf of unconditional love is always there. Always tail-wagging. Always butt-sniffing (but not accepting). Always prancing behind me like the proud fool he is.
So here’s to Tank — the dumbest, most loyal dog in the world.
And yeah, I love him more than most people.
