Collection: Meltdown Dog

Naked as the day you were born — but with none of the optimism. Gripping the table like it’s a lifeboat on the Titanic, while the moon stares in like a nosy neighbor with no chill. You're trying to gather yourself, but the pieces don’t quite fit anymore. Clothes? Gone. Dignity? Misplaced somewhere between the last drink and the bad decisions. It’s just you, the window, and a full-blown existential crisis with a front-row seat to the night. If rock bottom had a mascot, it’d probably look a lot like this.