Let me explain how this escalated, because my dragon problem did not start with How to Train Your Dragon.

No. My dragon problem started the way it did for many emotionally stable adults… during the Game of Thrones years.

Back when HBO had all of us sitting there every Sunday watching Daenerys walk around with three airborne flamethrowers like it was just a normal lifestyle accessory.

And I remember thinking: yeah… I want one of those.

Not for conquest. Not for power. Just practical life applications.

You know — snow removal, commuting, the occasional intimidation flyover when someone refuses to shovel their sidewalk.

Totally reasonable suburban upgrade.

But those dragons were intense. Beautiful, majestic, awe-inspiring — and also the kind of creatures that looked like they might accidentally incinerate you if you startled them while opening the fridge.

They weren’t pets. They were air superiority.

So I filed dragon ownership away under: “Cool idea… probably fatal.”

Then I watched the live-action How to Train Your Dragon movies — completely backwards, because apparently that’s how I consume franchises now — and that’s when I met Toothless.

And everything changed.

Because Toothless isn’t a war dragon.

He’s a flying cat.

A stealth bomber… running cat software.

He pouts. He sulks. He does the slow blink. He tilts his head when confused. He wants affection but pretends he doesn’t. He’ll vaporize your enemies and then immediately look for snacks and emotional reassurance.

Which, honestly, makes him the most relatable dragon ever created.

See, the Game of Thrones dragons made me want a dragon for spectacle.

Toothless made me want one for companionship.

Because imagine the everyday benefits.

Bad day? Go flying.

Need perspective? Cloud altitude therapy.

Traffic jam? Dragon.

Someone cuts you off? You don’t retaliate — you just make eye contact while your dragon slowly unfolds its wings behind you like a living “try me” sign.

No fire required. The implication does all the work.

And this is where Toothless really wins — emotionally.

He communicates entire conversations without speaking.

Eye movements. Ear shifts. Tail flicks. That deeply judgmental stare when you make questionable life choices.

You don’t need therapy when your dragon silently disapproves of your decisions from across the room.

Also — and this is critical — he curls up when he sleeps.

Like a dog.

Or a cat.

Or a heavily armed throw blanket.

That’s when I realized I don’t want a dragon for battle.

I want a dragon for naps.

Now, I did end up going back and watching the animated original after the live-action films, and it holds up really well. Funny, heartfelt, and way deeper than you expect from a story about Vikings and airborne reptiles.

But I probably should’ve watched it first, because now my brain defaults to the live-action scale.

I’ve heard there’s a third one, but I haven’t tracked it down yet. Which is frustrating, because now I’m invested — emotionally invested — in a fictional dragon franchise I did not plan on caring about.

But here we are.

So after careful consideration, analysis, and completely unnecessary emotional attachment, I’ve reached a conclusion.

Game of Thrones dragons are for conquering kingdoms.

Toothless is for living life.

One is battlefield dominance.

The other is emotional support with wings.

And if given the choice?

I’m picking the one that will fly me over traffic, judge my bad decisions silently, and curl up next to me like a nuclear-powered house cat.

Everyone should own a Toothless.

Honestly, society would probably improve overnight if we did.

Less road rage. More flying. Occasional controlled fire usage.

So if you need me, I’ll be researching zoning laws, HOA restrictions, and whether homeowners insurance covers plasma breath incidents.

Because if there’s a loophole anywhere…

I’m getting a Toothless.

Have something to say? We welcome your comments below — this is where the real conversation happens.

Each blog post is shared across our social transmitters, but those are just bigger antennas. The original source — and the signal we control — is right here on the blog. If you’re looking for other ways to stay updated on Rolling with Scissors, you’ll find our official transmitters linked below.

Spin the dial — we’re probably on it. Lock onto your frequency. Pick your favorite antenna below and ride the signal back to us.

Facebook • Instagram • Threads • Bluesky • X (Twitter)