Django Hedgebear the Poet Dog
Django Hedgebear is not a very unordinary dog by most accounts. An all around average miniature red Australian shepherd born on a farm in North Texas late one November evening and adopted by a young family with three small children when he was eight weeks old. But this pup has always been just a little different, a unique soul. Django Hedgebear is a poet dog. Unlike most dogs who are content to chase balls and urinate upon hydrants, he questions. He looks for meaning in his furry life and in the lives of the people and creatures around him. He is a dog, who asks, “why.”
Entry 1
November 14 2018
Why does no one understand me? I suppose that is the curse of man’s most noble friend; Why must I always be the smart one. *sigh*, even now as I lay on the back of the couch and stare out into the grey November drizzle I can’t help but replay the sad scene of carelessness and betrayal.
It was time for my morning walk, and just like every morning my beautiful human mother had (at last) roused herself from sleep with only minimal help from me. I have discovered that she seems far more inclined to rise when I summon all my strength and jam my face into her face as hard as I can. Repeatedly. Yes, it is taxing and I have devoted significant hours of study to perfect my method, but this morning I felt proud to have inspired her to her feet after only a few attempts. She seemed chipper and motivated until the frosty air hit her poor naked skin, at which time she seemed to crumple in on herself and complained loudly about something called “the fan” and why was it left on in November?
Why is it humans are so exposed to the elements? It seems a cruel trick of mother nature to force them to change their fur every day. They are also required to remove it to wash and have to clean their fur and under fur bodies separately. It simply does not seem natural or efficient. Hmmm, further study is required I suppose.
Once her morning ritual of throwing water about and shoving those minty chew toys in and out of her mouth, (but never once biting down what is the point I ask you!?) was complete, she emerged from the bedroom and we geared up for our walk.
The tiny angel chihuahua, the love of my life, Lelu, followed us pleading to go, but as usual, her demands fell on deaf ears. Perhaps I need to have a discussion with the humans about bitches rights? Another time. As tradition dictates I bowed deeply as she placed the leash on my collar and we set out. It was a beautiful day, chilly, grey with slight rain. What a wonderful day! Living in Texas cold and wet are rare and I reveled in it. Pulling with excitement at the leash with all the force of the majestic mountain dogs that pull carts of heavy rocks, we made our way over to the usual places. My person, Fay, was preoccupied mumbling something about, “Ice Daggers” as we made our way to spiky plant number three when I caught his scent. My eyes narrowed as I scanned the horizon for the owner of the offending scent, and there he was. Standing about 30 feet away, with a green ball in his mouth like the oafish dog/pup he was, Greg.
“HEY! Django HEY!” He called, his mouth full of ball,
“Greg I told you I don’t want anything to do with you! I have a family to take care of!”
I would not back down so easily this time. The family depended on me. My sainted humans Fay and Val depended on me. Not to mention the children. They needed me to keep them safe. Most of all, what of my sweet, my innocent and pure Lelu. Soon she would be of age and the last thing I needed with this clown sniffing around.
“Get lost, Greg. This is all mine and you know it!” For good measure, I sent my strongest stream of piss sailing over the spiky plant and onto Fay's shoe.
“Oh wow, thanks Django, That’s exactly what I needed this morning.” She exclaimed in thanks. I knew she wouldn’t want to be mistaken for a lost human.
“Hey Django, did you see this awesome ball! Shelly got it for me! We should play with it!”
“No Greg! I don’t want your poisoned ball!” Why the hell why was this guy so dense?
I lunged at the leash and Greg’s human seemed to realize all of a sudden that there was a world outside of the phone in her hand.
“Oh is he not friendly?” She called over
“Not really” Fay called back, I could smell annoyance on her, It must be this Shelly character. I don’t know how much louder I had to be to make Greg and his Vapid human realize I meant business. I pulled out all the stops and allowed my best wail to escape from deep in my gut. The high pitched warble continued as Fay guided me rather roughly through the rain. For some reason, Greg and Shelly stayed put. Continuing to ask questions about balls and my personality. Fay was moving rather fast. Ouch! That's my neck. She didn’t have to pull like that. When we had finally, safely cleared the threat of Greg and Shelly, all thanks to my quick talking and fail proof manly bark, it happened: She turned on me!
“Django what the actual fuck!? Why are you such a spaz! Shut UP!!” She made me sit in place with that sicko just over there! I was affronted! How could she? I had worked so hard to keep us safe, to keep her safe! Nothing I ever did was enough. Never. The rest of the walk home was a somber affair and she said nothing to me as she removed her shoes. Not even one “good boy”, and to make matters worse Lelu was asleep again by the time I was back, hiding from the cold with Val in the bed. *sigh* at least there is rain…
-Django Hedgebear
