Personal secrets I know a dog knows about me when we make eye contact

Dogs are intuitive creatures. One look into the eyes of a tail-wagging, tongue-out, heavily-panting doggie confirms everything I've ever suspected about dogs: they can see inside my soul.

Humans are advised to avoid eye contact with certain types of dogs due to aggression, but those of us with deep secrets know it's because they can see right through our societal masks, right to our truth. Here are some secrets I know a dog knows about me the second we make eye contact:

I only recycle when it's convenient.

I believe in the Billy Shears/Paul McCartney conspiracy theory and am just waiting for someone else to bring it up so we can talk about it.

I don't clean my bathroom nearly as often as an adult should, but I am good at making it SEEM clean, which I think might be more important?

I've never eaten at a Taco Bell because I don't like when meat is wrapped inside of something. Meat should be where I can see it, at all times.

If Billy Shears ISN'T Paul McCartney, then WHY does any record of him disappear after Paul's "death" in 1966??

I have read the WikiHow article "How To Be Happy" more than I've used Google Maps.

I once ate chips from inside a bag that was inside my garbage can.

Billy Shears is Paul McCartney.

My boyfriend in university wore a blood-stained tie to our graduation ceremony and I thought that was cool at the time.

I like to get high and go to the farmer's market to buy artisanal soaps.

90% of my job is just dicking around on the internet.

If you play several Beatles songs backwards there are messages like "Paul is dead" and "I buried Paul" in them. How can this be a coincidence?

I always imagine people with dental benefits spending their free time wearing luxurious silk fabrics, whiling away the afternoon on a sailboat without a care in the world. I do not have dental benefits. The dog knows.

I don't always reply to texts. It's not because I'm busy, it's because I don't want to.

Sometimes I start walking to the gym and end up in an ice cream shop, and have no recollection of how I got there or when I bought this delicious ice cream cone. I only know that I won't be working out.

I just spent four hours Googling evidence that Paul McCartney and Billy Shears are the same person and the deeper I fall into this hole, the more convinced I am that this conspiracy theory is absolutely valid. Nobody can know that I believe this if I ever hope to be taken seriously ever again.

When possible, I will not look into a dog's eyes, because my secrets inadvertently tumble out like marbles during our brief telepathic connection. It's too dangerous to be a fallible human in this dog-ruled universe. If you have deep secrets, beware: doggie knows.

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