A flash fiction look into how we often forget there are other living entities that just might have something to teach us. ( Image by pinterest)
Dog
A dog trying to write his memoir
is not exactly welcome in the library.
I warned them.
I warned them.
But taking no heed that my master was invisible,
very powerful and not to be messed with,
they continued dragging me out by my tail.
So much for that ruse.
Fortunately,
my plight was not by itself,
for in the park,
squirrels had to use strategy as well,
given birds were willing to peck and claw at the
cast aside peanuts… a squirrel’s best friend.
Filling his cheeks,
the squirrel of the moment took to the bushes,
his favorite tree besieged by more birds
looking for a fight.
Following him into the dense vegetation,
we chummed up. A couple of barks
sent the birds flying.,
The squirrel’s queried look was laid to rest
when I told him I just wanted some peace and quiet to write my memoir.
“What’s that?” the squirrel asked.
The dog stared blankly out to the bushes surrounding him.
“Kinda like settling things, you know?”
“No. Don’t know.,” answered the squirrel in between peanut munches.
“Yeah, I understand your ‘no’. You’ve never been in captivity, or as the humans call it: being a pet.”
“That bad, eh?”
“Not bad, just… living without the freedom you guys enjoy.”
“Okay. I’ll give you that. So what’s this memoir thing supposed to do…really?”
“Make being a pet appreciating lots of memories, hopefully pleasant ones.”
“There are unpleasant memories you’re working on?”
Dog gives a glance at squirrel.
“Yeah. It’s the unpleasant that makes for the enjoyment of the pleasant.”
“You mean like having plenty of peanuts, even when times are rough?”
“Yeah. Like that.”
“Well, being in the park, I don’t have many unpleasant memories.
People seem to not care that much about their peanuts. Always cast aside those they don’t wolf down.
Know what I mean?”
“Yeah, know it well. It’s a major part of the memoir.”
“Tough times, eh. Groveling for a meal? Here. Wanna peanut?”
“Thanks. But, no, I’ll pass. Makes me fart more that I need to.”
“So…you gonna tell me more about this memoir of yours?”
Dog turns to the squirrel. “You remind me of what I thought was
the best. Thought scavenging around gave me the kind of freedom
I wanted. But, you know, times changed. I had some good masters, and some shitty.
That’s what the memoir is about. What I learned being chained by the shitty
master taught me that once I broke free, freedom led me to the right master.
Kind, caring, considerate, a real standup woman, you know.”
“So, if she be so good to you, what you doing wandering around the park?”
“She died.”
“Oh, shit. I really stuck my fist in my mouth, didn’t I?”
“No, just an inordinate paw full of peanuts.”
Dog whimper/growls a sympathetic thank you laugh.
“Gotta get this thing done soon. Being 15 years old,
well…kinda makes you wonder how much longer you got.
There’s other mongrels roaming the streets that deserve
to know there’s always another way. Like getting lucky. Finding a woman
like I had, even if it was for little time. Now, she’s the best damn loving ghost
you could want. You know? I know… you don’t know.”
Dog turns and trots toward the pathway. He turns back.
“You’re a good squirrel, squirrel.”
I got a name. Wanna know it?.”
“Sure”
“Soc”
"Soc?"
"Yeah, as in Socrates."
The dog nods. "Okay. You got me on that one. Good name for a didactic questioner. Later, pal.”
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You made me recall the time I saw a poor squirrel beleaguered by at least 30 birds of all kinds at our city's zoo in our small town. Those birds, ranging from crows to sparrows, sure didn't like that squirrel.
Dogs don't seem to have much memory. Perhaps because they are pack animals and are genetically inclined to join the pack. The reason they are friendly to even abusive masters is that they probably think of humans as alpha leaders of the pack and want to become a part of it, even though it may be abusive.
Ron
Love ya!
Jane