I identify as a dog. I don't care if you're the kind of person who doesn't really go along with role play.
Calling me a human being is "misgendering" me.
I'm not your dog. I am a stranger's dog that you might see on the side of the street.
Because I'm very cute, you might lean down and say hi, give me a little "good boy" for my troubles, but anything beyond that
is crossing a boundary for my hypothetical owner in this situation.
And as much as I would like for every stranger to just intuitively recognize that I'm the sort of creature
that they're allowed to touch and pet whenever they want, the optics of saying that are not good.
By all means, air on the side of dehumanizing. It's only a problem when it's combined with a sense of over familiarity,
like any dog would react poorly to some human they don't know smothering them.
But if I already know you, if we're friends, then I'm your dog. I'm your dog! On all levels except physical I am your dog.
There's a couple differences, I like conversation, I will talk to you about video games and music theory,
but otherwise I am your dog and I'm to be treated as such. Greet me as if you can see my little tail wagging behind me as you open the door!
You can pet me, no questions asked! My body does not hold the same sanctity as a human body. You can literally just *pet*.
If it seems weird it's because I'm a different species than you! I have been forced to maintain a human form for the benefit of those around me for my entire life.
If we're gonna meet up we need to determine to what degree I'm allowed to take the mask off.
Determining to see if I can sniff you, to see what you smell like, determining if I can rest my cute little muzzle on your thigh when you're sitting on the couch,
determining if I can bite you (please let me bite you).
The doggy metaphor has simply never stopped giving. It never ceases to describe aspects of my personality or proclivities that I have.
It always was me, and it always will be me.