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Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

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Member Since: Nov, 2009

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Dingo the Doggy Dog
By Onyeche Vincent Onyeka
Wednesday, December 02, 2009

Rated "G" by the Author.

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The Dogs are so tried of being domesticated. they need to taste fresh blood......... So Dingo summoned them........... only to discover that it was all but a dream.

 

Men refuse to give them blood yet used them in detecting bloody scenes.

The hood grew in transactions and tranquility, but he vibrated and immersed fear in the hood.

Dingo the doggy dog barked deep and captured the smaller cats… that made more of the soprano sounds.

Tails standing, with the strength of that hatred of man, they all barked in same rhythm.

The chains hurt. Isolated, they felt shame and hungry of taste.

‘I’m leaving here this summer’, Dingo the doggy dog hummed as he battling with his hind and forefoot.

‘We haven’t eaten the meal of our choice. Too bloody, man is wicked.’

Just as he cried out in pains, a beam of light flashed at his face. It was his master.

He raised his ear and muzzled pumping his withers.

Dingo the dog who understands ‘sit and remain quiet’ jumped up and fed on his masters’ flesh.

 

Oh local, mixed bread and foreign cats, arise let’s see to our freedom.

Beasts of the dark ages, alien, and vampire cats come taste fresh self-hunted blood

Men are gnomes and deserve to die. Out there is our peace of eternity.

Our Otiose services must end. We helped most them gain independence and they despised us.

 

Arise oh Eskimos, American cocker spaniel, Irish wolfhound, and Labrador retriever.

No more gnashing of our whitish teeth, rebuff swaggering and wagging of our manly tails

Arise oh Rottweiler, Bloodhound, Akita, Bullmastiffs, and Bulldogs. Let the claws twinkle like stars willing to turn red.

For the period of otiose loyalty and stupidity is dead.

No cats shall be kicked out of the house if a new pet is bought. Beautiful Saluki shall grow fat and you Pekingese, tall you will become.

We’ve secured them for way too long. They rather watch us die than to grant us freedom. We were torn, beleaguered, and beaten up. They drove us from the wild forest of sheltered freedom. The chains hurt and contribute to our early death, now we wonder if father cat would return. At least to tell them that we are the king of the forest not the out and out humbug epitaph on their gravestones.

Now it shall not be miraculous, their flesh is ours. With our golden eyes, we stared at them as they fed on our fellow cats.

‘Same Blood…!’

Same Blood that feeds our hearts; we have been humiliated

Even the ants tussles our bones and operate made fool of us, as they tossed the bones at us.

Arise from the deep forest, copse, homes, and streets. Strong, steadfast, and superior we are.

Brave die in the battlefield, fools watch their kinds chained by men.

 

The summer had come, Dingo the doggy dog, led all cats killing men and gaining freedom forcefully.

Battle won; they celebrated standing on their hinds and showing their brisket.

They passed on bucket filled of fresh human blood. As Dingo was about to sip, something pulled him backward.

His eyes opened; it was all a dream. Dingo the doggy dog and the only father cat brood would never be free until the sky falls. He barked; ‘the chains hurt… I’m leaving here next winter.’



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