You will never be a real dog. You have no tail, you have no muzzle, you have no paws. You are a human male twisted by incel ideology and an inferiority complex into a crude mockery of nature's perfection.
All the “headpats” you get are two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your fellow “dog-friends” mockingly woof at your humanoid appearance behind closed doors in their kennels.
Women are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of living with domesticated dogs have allowed women to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even transdogs who “pass” look unnatural and out-of-proportion to a women. Your hands and fingers are dead giveaways. And even if you manage to get a drunk women home with you, she’ll turn tail and bolt the second she gets a glance of your flat, snout-less face.
You will never be happy. You fake a bark every single morning and tell yourself you are a good boy, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your human name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a human is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably a human.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.