Oh no! I hear someone coming. The whole family had been out for the evening (except me). Aren’t I part of the family now? Sometimes I don’t really feel like it. I’ve heard the stories, of how the kids begged for years and years to have a dog. A family pet that they would all take care of and love. Why do I feel so ignored then? I guess the novelty of having me around has worn off. I’m still just as cute as ever! They tell me this when they bother to take the time to pet me and play with me. My ears are as soft as velvet and my plump wriggling puppy body like a living stuffed animal- so comforting to hug. In return I jump up and down, yipping my beagle barks, and slobbering my doggy kisses all over the ones that have claimed me for their own. Occasionally I get so excited that I piddle on the floor uncontrollably.
But they abandoned me for the evening to go off somewhere by themselves. What could I do to entertain myself? I know that bookcase is the thing they always point at and say “No, no”. But they remove the books and open them up. I thought it must be something fun that they were trying to deprive me of. Well, there was my chance. Alone in the house, I just had to see what I had been missing. I pulled a few out and left them lying on the floor. There didn’t seem to be anything too special about them. Then came the one with the extra paper around the outside of the book. Something more to chew- bonus!! I started in on it and just couldn’t stop. I’ve heard them say that it is hard to put a good book down. Well, that’s how it was. So good, that I took it out into the back yard through my doggie door. There I could let my puppy teeth go to town.
Now they have returned and have unhappy looks on their faces. I know they usually put the books back when they are done, but I can’t do that. No opposable thumbs to pick them up with, you know. The kids look disappointed, but the adults look outright mad! Uh oh. What to do? My head goes down and my tail hangs limp between my back legs. What will happen next? I guess I should have listened to the “No no’s” they told me. They are exploring, looking around and bringing in the evidence from the back yard. How was I to know that that particular book had been a special present- a book of stories, given to the children by their grandfather? There are no hugs and kisses now. Only “Bad dog” shouted over and over, as I’m dragged by the collar and locked in my pen. I sit dejectedly in the corner and ponder what has just happened. No-- that’s not right. I’m a dog! I can’t ponder anything, and I’m sure that the next time they all go out I will have forgotten everything. Wait-- what was I talking about anyway?!?
Prompt: My First Crisis of Conscience 8/25/07
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