My people kept giving me those oil pills and pain pills and healthy dog kibble and dental treats; so, I figured I best keep on goin' for their sake. Who knows what those humans would up and do if I left them to their own devices. I reminded 'em to step outside -- or at least to open the back door for a whiff of real air -- several times a day. Oh, and their whining -- constant vocalization about their day and what's wrong with things and what might go wrong with things. I would step real close and stare them down; that would make 'em stop and talk to me in their happy voices and rub off their troubles onto the top of my head. Those people types would otherwise just chase their own tales forever.
I didn't know if I had it in me -- to housebreak them, again, but when I saw all those sweaty homo sapiens hauling out into a truck everything the humans sit and sleep on, my fears were confirmed. More than ten years -- that was a good run, but I thought it was gonna go on forever. Not me go on forever, just them in that place. We were over five years in our first house, and then, I got them all re-trained for what I thought was the last time. I had a nice spot for my dish so they could drop leftovers for me in there. No big dogs disturbed my yard. When my family went out of town, the same human visited so I could help her several times a day. And it was a nice neighborhood, which was a really good thing, because the younger boy human liked me to take him on walks quite a lot.
But, nobody listens to me. Despite all my age and wisdom and the fact that WITHOUT ME EVERYTHING WOULD GO TO HELL! Ahem. Excuse me. Um, I mean, change is good, change is good. It's just a challenge to manage, you know, because they first hide all of their stuff in brown cardboard, and then some of them get cranky about the finding part of the game. I don't get it, and you see why there must be a dog present at all times to save them from themselves. I swear that if I didn't make her walk around the yard with me a whole bunch extra, that lady one they call "Mahm" would be nothin' but a hot mess of coffee and chocolate.
The yard at this LAST (ahem!) house is a little smaller; so, that's less to patrol. Less turf to guard against squirrels and blowing leaves. But the girl people, oddly, are now in separate crates upstairs. In the kitchen they keep moving my dishes. I always find 'em, but this is going to take some work to get sorted out; I don't see all that well, and I'm not too sure how good my sniffer is workin'. They come and go with bags and bikes and ice cream cones. I don't know if my old mind can keep track of all the new things and people coming and going. Heck, I'm still confused about where the other doors are.
Thank God for the oldest boy of the human children who finally brought home another canine. I don't know if I'd call this puppy my protege, exactly -- he's so young, practically still wet behind the ears. And he was more than skittish when we met, but he had somehow managed to get the humans to pay attention to him. So, he could turn out okay. He is a kinda silly lad. So young. I guess when I first took 'em on, I didn't know anything either. In fact, this is probably a cake walk, fella; I did the hard 16 1/2 years! You're getting a family that's already been broken in.
The family and I need him. I need to retire. Retire from the job. Take leave from the daily grind of my joints. Lap from the never-ending gravy bowl on the other side. My dogs are barkin'. Enough of this ol' mess down here.
But those people did kinda grow on me, I admit. They were always loyal to me and didn't care that I wasn't a purebred, That's somethin'. And, alright, I loved 'em. There, I said it. I loved them.
While it might have taken some time and repetition, they wanted to learn. And that's something, too. Okay, pup, ya gotta promise me that you'll really watch them. Take good care of my people.
Sorry, our people. Okay? OKAY? Thank you.
Oh, and if you stay up late when the bearded human eats chips, he'll toss some to ya. (Wink.)
(Informal, unformatted giving of credit: this narrative lens was stolen directly from the compassionate, empathetic, hilarious reflections by Archana Nair Bhat via our telephone banter the other day. Thank you, "Vava,")
