Imagine being very young. Like young enough to pretty much get that you exist, but there are still lots of things to learn about all the moving pieces in the world around you. You're small, but your upper body is very strong. You are aware of your legs, but they don't do what you tell them to do, and more than anything they just sort of get in the way as you pull yourself around on your hands. You live outside, and you are learning how to fend for yourself ever since you stopped living nestled up close to the warm mama and the other bodies who smelled just like you.
Then one day, you were just hopping along, bouncing on that bottom that you only sort of feel, near the hard place where the loud, shiny boxes went zipping by, when one of those loud boxes suddenly stopped. You got whisked away from the muddy spot where you were minding your own business, and stuffed into a cardboard box. Then there was a blur of movement, voices, touching, poking and prodding from a man who wanted you to lie still on his cold, hard table, and then there was food. Lots of food, and you didn't have to root through mud or grass or trash to find it. That guy who put you into the box showed up almost every day to feed you and talk to you and wash your fur a lot. One day he put you up on wheels, and after that, you found out what it was like to run.
You thought life was going pretty well, and then there were a whole lot more changes. You spent two whole days inside a plastic box. Your ears felt funny, and you were sleepy, but you knew the air kept smelling different every time you woke up. You met new faces, including a tall lady, a whole bunch of small, fuzzy cats, and two dogs who were the most amazing friends ever. The cats seemed to avoid you, the dogs taught you all sorts of sneaky tricks, and that tall lady took a long time to figure out what to make of you. She made you wear pants, but she seemed to get upset every time you pooped in them, even though you barked every time to let her know you filled them like you thought she wanted. And every time she said, "Yay, pee!" the smile never seemed to reach her eyes. But for all that she wasn't very good at getting you in and out of your magic wheels, she did pay attention to you, and put yummy nuggets of food in your mouth (things that were way more interesting than the dry food that the man gives you everyday).
Now imagine one day, the man and lady put you in the back of the giant, white moving box, and they took you and those other dogs to a magical place you had never imagined before. The last time you rode in this rumbling box, you went to a place called "the Mountains," where there were hills to run on and bear poops to sniff. But today, the drive was much shorter, and you ended up at a place the humans called "the Beach." You had come from mountains, so they weren't so different. But beach was something you never knew existed. Beach had smells you never thought of, that were salty and fishy and wet. There were shells and rocks to sniff, other dogs to glare at, and so many birds to chase. There was a lot of cold water, and the cold water chased you. That wasn't fair! You walked every morning with the man, but walking here felt different. The air was misty and you wanted to investigate everything. The girl dog wanted to walk along the surf forever and never stop.
If this was your reality, would you have any idea how far you had come? Would you realize how lucky you were, to start where you did, and end up on the Edge of America, where the fancy dogs play?
No comments:
Post a Comment