If our dog wore pants, she would have a muffin top. I didn’t realize this until a recent soiree at the dog park.

Kona puppy was following her usual protocol: hogging the water when other dogs tried to drink, acting aloof when people tried to throw her a ball, jumping on unassuming women in pastels, trying to dominate me in an embarrassing show of barking and assertiveness. This is how we do.

I usually enjoy watching the other dogs and secretly think mine is much cuter than theirs, except for when the occasional striped bulldog with multiple chain collars and an unexpected orange bandanna earns my admiration for looking so badass. But this time there was another chocolate lab who looked like Kona — even with the same color collar — except she was at least 10 pounds lighter.

I would see this dog chase after a brown tennis ball, and think, “Kona is so sprightly today. She better be tired tonight!” And then I would look over to the mud puddle and see the real Kona sniffing around and licking. Don’t judge me for calling her a fatty under my breath. The skinny dog’s owner struck up conversation with me, and I found out that she is just a few weeks older than Kona, but eats 33% less than Kona does. Looks like we will be enforcing portion control.

Admittedly, the vet always says, “We’d like to see a little more waist on Kona,” as if saying she’s overweight will send Kona reeling into a distorted body image, self-doubt and depression. But I assumed that line was like the dentist’s “You need to start flossing regularly, every day.”

I do floss every day! And Kona obviously has a waist! It’s just a protruding waist that would be accentuated by tight pants.