Chauffeured: The Way of Dogs

michael
michael
Aug 9, 2017 · 3 min read

What does it mean to be a dog?

Tales have been told of how we are man’s best friend; we wag our tails in affection, we ward off evil with our barks, grunt in anger, whimper in fear. At what point did we make this loyal pact with humans? My mother used to tell us stories of our ancestors, how we left the fox tribe, or maybe the wolf tribe, I don’t remember clearly anymore but we sold our soul, we sold our identity, for the protection of humans. We are timid in the commitment we made with our human friends, we gave our unwavering love.

I sometimes wonder if humans see us beyond what we offer them, if they care for our individuality, if they spare a thought for doggy travails or if they only remember this in moments of upright humping, the female human with back bent, one of the many things we taught our human masters. We have had our heroes, parents, fathers and grandfathers, mothers and grandmothers who have lost their lives in this loyal service. It is every dog’s responsibility to give the ultimate gift for the human master whenever the call arises.

Today is the day I journey into adulthood.

My day will go this way; I’ll be driven far off to meet another dog in the next city, without my consent, he’ll have his way with me. This is how I imagine it, this is what my sister told me went down when she made the pregnancy pilgrimage, something we all have to do at some points in our lives. We are a rare breed, and mother used to say it’s a way to protect our bloodline. I don’t understand these things, she only said I should trust the master, that he knows best, and I should be optimistic, that the smile on the face of my kids will make it worth it. My mother also says we were 7, but it is just me and my sister left. My other siblings were sold off to strange people, people my mother had never met, people who come in, talk with the master, and cheerily, the master prods and pokes and gives my siblings away. My mother used to cry at every departure till she got used to it. We all get used to life as it comes. I wish I knew my siblings. I wonder if they think of me, or if they have any memory of me. I doubt I’ll recognize them. Mother says that’s the way of dogs. It took her a while to get over it but she lived, she says I’ll also live.

My kids are now gone, I don’t think it’s worth it. 8 of them, kids I conceived in the cold, a dog breathing down my neck in ecstasy. He tried to make small talk but I wasn’t in the mood for it. I saw master laughing with another man, I didn’t want to disappoint him, I didn’t want to disappoint mother so I gave in in total submission. I cried when the first pup was snatched from me, I couldn’t bear his tears, but like mother, I got over it. We all get over these things.

michael

Written by

michael

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