Saturday, August 8, 2009

A Narrative on a Dog's Life

I have to sit here, I have to sit here and wait and eat my food and drink my water and wait. I walk a little and bark a little but most of all I wait, a lot. I wait to be let off my chain, but why am I on a chain? I didn’t bite or scratch or do nothing wrong. She said it’s so I won’t run away. She is who I wait for: She feeds me and walks me and pets me and lets me off this chain. Why do they think I’d run away? I like it here, except for the chain. The people are nice here, except for the chain.

I don’t like that horse. All he does is eat, walking around chewing on stuff. He never talks and he is really boring and he’s scary ‘cause he’s big. I stay away from him. Those chickens are weird too. Fat little busy bodies that go scurrying around. Cluck, cluck this and cluck, cluck that and never saying nothing.

A little blonde dog lives here too. She belongs to Him. Her coat is full of knots and she is bad. I played with her a few times but she tried to bite me. She is smaller but I’m afraid because she bites. She chases a small green ball and brings it back, I don’t know why she brings it back. If it was thrown it’s because nobody wants it, right? The boy who owns her is happy when she brings it back. Then why did he throw it?

When the sun is almost behind the trees in the front yard She comes home. I don’t know where She goes every day in that big yellow car with all those strange kids. She is always tired when she comes back. Maybe She is sad, maybe they give her baths at that place She goes? I’m always tired and sad after a bath. She takes all this green goop from a bottle that has a dog on it and She pours it on me. She always pours cold water on me after, from a long green snake that spits water when you turn a wheel. I think the snake is not real. The bathing takes off all my nice dog smell and so I have to go roll in the dirt, then I smell better. I hate baths.

And so I’m still waiting and She has not come home on the big yellow car. The sun is almost gone and now She is back. She walks up the drive and pets me. I jump on her to keep her here but she leaves. In the morning She brings some of that dry brown kibble stuff. I wish I had some lamb, some nice roast lamb still soaking in it’s own juices and... But anyway after feeding and filling up my water bucket that the stupid horse empties She goes back to that bad bath place with the strange kids.

The sunrises five times, and each day is a copy of the one before it, no better and no different. Then comes the sixth day. I live for the sixth day. She comes out of the house and cleans up my messes which I am tired of smelling because all week I can’t go anywhere else. We go for a walk and I can do what ever I want so I run back and forth and She pets me and we walk up the road and up the trail then back down them both. I’m so thirsty and I want my bucket of water when we get home. There were so many things to see and smell and mark that I am all dried out. I run to my spot and drink my water and She is not back yet, I am much faster because I use four legs and She is not back yet, I am much faster because I use four legs and She only uses two. I wonder why She only has two. She is walking up the yard and I run to stop Her. I jump on Her and lie on my belly and run back and forth and it Works! She stays longer and plays with me. Tomorrow She might play again but only shorter, ‘cause She drives off in a long green car. This car has only the people that live here and not any strange kids.

The sixth and seventh days are done and they have been great. Now it starts again all that waiting and sitting and lying around. I have gone back on my long red chain and I have begun my waiting. I think that we both wait for the sixth and seventh days.

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