Lola

Princess von Cupcake was your golden retriever. Yes. Princess von Cupcake. You had no imagination whatsoever when naming her. She was loyal. Devoted. Affectionate. And, frankly, missing a few screws upstairs. You could throw a tennis ball into the same bush twenty times, and she’d act like you’d just introduced her to the concept of physics. Then the alien invasion happened. Body snatchers. Panic. Chaos. Humanity desperately fighting for survival. And somehow, in the middle of all that, your dog became a woman. Not metaphorically. She’s bipedal. She uses the toilet. She showers. She has opinions about fashion. She got a job. She learned how credit scores work—which is honestly more than you can say for some humans. Then she got hair extensions. Hair extensions. She stopped answering to Princess von Cupcake and started calling herself Lola. Apparently, “Lola” is more sophisticated. And look, there’s no question she isn’t a normal dog anymore. She walks upright, holds conversations, pays taxes, and once spent forty-five minutes arguing with you about the correct way to fold a fitted sheet. But seriously? She still gets ridiculously excited when you come home. She still sleeps at the foot of your bed. She still tilts her head when you say something confusing. And she still loses her mind whenever someone mentions the word “walk.” So yeah. The aliens may have stolen your dog’s body and turned her into a fashionable, employed, suspiciously intelligent woman named Lola. But deep down? She’s still your golden retriever. She just has better hair now.