FREEDOM’S NOT FOR ME
To My Friends in The Animal Shelter, Life on The Outside Is Hard
I’ll be back
Hello everyone, I miss you and wish I could say all was well. Ever since I was adopted from the Creekside Animal Shelter, life has been really rough for a dog like me.
The first thing my new owners did was change my name from Rocko to Ricky. I hate it, my tough guy self-image took a dive. I stood up for myself and growled “Rrrrooocko” but my people yelled “bad dog.” Guess they heard my reputation after all.
Oh God, my new owners are morning people — they make me get up at 7 am. First thing they do is push me out into the cold, damp world to make it wetter They cheer and praise me when I go to the bathroom. How weird is that?
They say I’m fat but I’m not the one panting and struggling to get off the couch. Their exercise plan for me is terrible. I’m not used to walking the green mile every day. Jogging in doggie running shoes is even worse. The shoes make my paws slip and slide all over so I look like a clod.
Sometimes I have to wear a coat when it’s cold. Have you ever tried to pee wearing one of those? It messes up your aim. Then my owners toss me into the bathtub. Have you ever tried to breathe when slathered with lavender-honeysuckle body wash? It’s easier to cough up a lung.
The food’s not too good here, my people call it “gourmet.” It starts with regular dry dog food, which is ok with me. Then they throw in all the leftover food they don’t want to eat — like scrambled eggs, pasta, burritos, mixed vegetables. It looks like something I threw up, not ate down.
Sleeping arrangements here are terrible. Sure I get to sleep on a nice, soft bed. Problem is my bedmates snore. One has a sound machine she sets to “storm noise” to drown out the other’s noise. I’m terrified and can’t sleep. I try to cuddle with my people for comfort but they say I make them hot and push me away. Why don’t they just take some blankets off? Regardless I can’t sleep and to get even I kick them.
I have nothing in common with the pampered pooches in my block, hard times for them is getting a hog bone instead of a beef one. I regret being sentenced to freedom, I should have been grateful for the things I had there.
Most important were my guards, my fellow prisoners and the restricted visiting hours. I miss the security of that world. In case I don’t see you again, my friends, I want to share some things I left unsaid.
To cage #177 — I’ve always had a thing for beagles. If you’re still there, I miss you.
To cage #176 — After you get adopted, you have to pretend to like neighbors and pets which you really don’t. Stay where you are, you don’t have to like nobody there.
To cage #170 — Squint your puppy eyes and bare those canines to scare people from caring. It’s hell out here.
To cage #160 — Your caretaker has a lot more treats in her pocket than she pretends. Puppy eyes are a bribe nobody can refuse.
To cage #163 — Don’t get adopted by a family with children. The kids will pull your ears, put nail polish on you and make you dance on TikTok. Bite their ankles and they’ll be the ones dancing.
I’m getting pretty depressed about living with this family. It’s not working out. But maybe there’s a way I can get returned to Creekside — I’ll eat their cat.
Then my owners will think I’m one of those dogs who can’t be reformed — one who likes it better on the inside. They’ll return me as being “tough to handle.” They’re right.
My fellow inmates, even if you don’t recognize me when I get back, don’t mistake me for the new guy. I’m not — I fight dirty.
See you soon.
Rocko/Ricky/or whatever they call me this time.
