I am my puppy (a parable)

I am my puppy (a parable)

My master, he strides purposefully and unwaveringly toward some unseen destination. Me? I zig zag. One second behind, the next in front, to the left, to the right. Hardly ever straight. There are simply too many distractions and fascinating items to savour. My master seems to be missing them.

Heavy traffic ahead! I dig my heels in. If he wants me to move any closer toward the rather frightening & noisy junction he had better start dangling an extra special treat right now. What am I thinking? That hardly ever happens. Usually I simply receive some firmer encouragement. A stare. A tug. Sometimes if I am genuinely fearful he will take me in his arms. No guarantee.

Now and again I see the disgust in my masters eyes when I return to examine my own crap.  I don’t know why I do it really. Something oddly comforting about focusing on the mess I have just made. It’s odd but he always deals with it if I leave it alone long enough. He takes it and puts it somewhere where I never see it again. Can’t say I miss it.

There are others like me. Mostly they seem to be scampering in the opposite direction. I try to make a fuss of them and I’d love them to come with me & my master. However they are more often than not fastened to a different master who soon tugs them away on their path to who knows where. I feel sad about that.

When it is just the two of us, often in a green field,  I get to play, run wild, shout, try new things, dream. My master watches me protectively and occasionally calls my name or smiles and says “good boy”. I like being free as long as can see him clearly.

When he turns for home I can usually tell. The route has an oddly familiar scent. I can barely contain my excitement. Home! It’s where he lives. It’s where I feel safe. With his family. My family.

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