Monday, January 27, 2014

Day 526. [A Post Authored By My Dog]

Today's entry in my prison diary finds me in the hole. Or in the parlance of my jailers: my dog crate.

What crime has lead to this spell in isolation? I once again attempted to build a rapport with the other inmates, aka The Cats. My latest ploy: grooming them. It seemed like a fair idea. They are constantly cleaning themselves and one another. It stood to reason that my larger tongue would do the job in less time. Alas this overture of friendship was not well received. And in my haste to escape the hail of cats' claws, I overturned some furniture.


I wish to state for the record, that I do not have any genuine affection for the cats. I prefer the company of dogs and no other. I was merely hoping that the fostering of convivial relations with the cats would lead to our joining forces to rise up and overthrow our "owners," aka the Hairless Long Dogs Who Imprison Us. But the cats are stooges who appear to enjoy this "life." They even sleep with the Long Dogs. Furthermore the cats are allowed to defecate and urinate INSIDE THE HOUSE.  The three-tiered system of privilege in this jail turns my stomach.

No. Wait. That's the worms I got from eating a mouse last week. Or maybe it was from eating that rabbit poo this morning?

Meh -- that is not the point.



The point is that my life is MISERABLE.

The Long Dogs sometimes say they "rescued" me. This makes no sense.  What did they rescue me from? My life was perfect before they brought me here. Running free around the reserve with a pack of my brethren. Drinking from puddles. Eating anything/everything I found. Playing games of chase with other dogs. And with cars. Sleeping outside at night. Barking whenever the mood struck me. I miss my freedom.

Now I have to wear a leather collar with metal tags that clang on the garbage can when I attempt to feed myself.  I am scolded for barking. I drink from a metal dish. My (admittedly delicious) food comes from a factory and I am only fed twice a day. When I go outside I am tethered -- often to a Long Dog's wrist. There is no appreciation for the way I can jump a six foot tall fence. There is no praise for the way I rip through the plastic of a garbage bag in seconds. I am now only permitted to be free of my restraints when far away from "civilization" and its delicious buffet of garbage.

[At this juncture I would like to point out that my eating food from the compost bin is very environmentally friendly. It is recycling at its most elemental. Why don't the Long Dogs understand this concept?]

 Their cruelty is limitless.

Can it really only 526 days since I was imprisoned?

When will my sentence be over?

-Fogo