3/21/3018

Papaya VII is absolutely the best yet. Papaya’s I-VI didn’t have the anti-slobber implant. I mean come on, every time you make her sit and stay for meals she practically ruined the Persian rug and the saliva was getting worse with each model. VII not only doesn’t slobber but she’s getting pretty good at distinguishing between family and foe.

I’ll admit that Papaya I, the original, never had this issue, but cloning has its downsides and Great Grandpa Hansen didn’t want to lose her. Back then it was experimental, but we were one of the first families to clone our dying dog, along with Barbra Streisand. We’re digital pioneers, it’s in our blood and clearly in Papaya’s.

Out of all seven, Papaya II had the most defects. Not only did she suffer from unusually acute amnesia for a dog, she had the worst farts by far. Great Grandpa described it as a rotten salmon that’d been left under the net of a fishing boat all summer, festering with the heat, weight, and salty effervescence of the net. We still don’t know where the fish essence comes from. That unique scent makes it harder to blame it on the dog when needed.

Versions III-V were a steady progression, each version improving on the previous until Papaya the First became obsolete. Who wants to be the first of their kind anyway? The seventh iteration is always the best. Remember iPhones? Ya, me neither, but I have it on good authority they hit their stride at seven.

Plus there are bonus features, like pillow mode for example. Twist her left ear thrice and no matter how riled up she is, Papaya will lay under your head in calm obedience and become the warmest undulating pillow you’ve ever experienced. Since that feature came in however, she’s learned to drop farts if it’s not her preferred mode.

Not to mention there hasn’t been a feline homicide by a dynasty dog since 2044. “Survival of the fittest” Grandpa would say. Admittedly it’s less a factor of the dogs losing their killer instinct and more due to the improvements in feline breeding. Ever since they injected pure jaguar back to the gene pool those little furballs are much harder to catch unawares.

The only real problem I have with dynasty dogs is the stare. It’s hard to find any shred of a soul in those eyes. They just can’t make meaningful eye contact like the originals, it’s like their looking through you, to their past founder’s lives, longing for the fleeting feeling of mortality, trapped in a never-ending cycle of toxic farts and drool.

What am I saying? They love it, don’t you Papaya—OH GOD that’s rancid. There she goes again, better snag some more Trump Candles at the store, those things can cover up all manner of fishy business.