Really?

Are you going there?

Yep. Yes you did. You went there. Here, I mean—you’re going here. On me. You got kicked out of the house, sniffed around and raised your golden, hairy leg towards me. Now, since you’re going to be here for at least 12 more seconds, could you begin to explain to me how that’s even fair?

Waiting.

Oh don’t try those droopy eyes on me you big slobbering excuse for a Christmas present. I have leaves, not a conscious. Oh, so you’re sitting now? Done with that business and now you want to use me for shade—soaking my bark wasn’t enough, was it?

Well, don’t expect a nice sit in peace. That’s the thing about you little canine bastards—you automatically assume everything is about you. ‘Oh look, some shoes—I’ll eat them!’ or ‘Oh look, a tree—I’ll pee on it!’ Well I’ve got a newsflash for ya buddy, I was around long
before you learned to raise that damn leg instead of doing the squat-y dance.

Hell I was planted in this yard over twenty years ago. Barely remember what it was like to be a seed, all vulnerable and full of potential. The first couple of years were really rough. I doubt Jim—your “master”—knew the first thing about growing a tree. Oh but Pearl wanted one so bad—picket fence, apple tree with a tire swing, a few little sprouts running around, all of that.

So Jim did his best. He gave me water when the sky wasn’t so generous, and guarded me from floods when it was finally in a giving mood. Slowly, I broke out of my little shell and embraced the world. Jim kept on taking care of me and I kept on growing. I remember when they grew a few little miracles of their own—they were out of diapers just in time for my first
batch of apples.

Don’t fall asleep, lazy! Story’s not even over yet. Everything was going pretty well—I even got that tire swing once Jim and Pearl were sure the kids wouldn’t kill themselves on it. But then the Ice storm of ’99 hit. I couldn’t tell what was me, and what was just another chunk of Winter Wonderland. Icicles weighed me down so much that I lost more branches than I care to recall. I really thought it was the end.

But Jim didn’t give up. He found a few tree experts or farmers or whatever and got to fixing me up. Things get a little fuzzy here. There were graphs and splints and saws—wasn’t even sure if I was me anymore. But I got through it. Stayed strong. Then the next little thing that came along was you.

Yeah, I bet you’re interested now. Well I’m sure you remember the day as good as me. Christmas morning, all I hear is little Allison squealing to the top of her lungs and you come running out the back door, those little puppy legs carrying you as fast as you can. And what did you do?

You know.

Peed. You peed like there was no tomorrow. I didn’t know something so small could even produce that much urine. It was then that I knew how I’d spend the rest of my days in the backyard. As a chew toy and a toilet. Yes, chew toy. Don’t think I forgot about that whole bark-eating phase you went through.

And that grand tale is what brings me back to my point.
You’re selfish. I know cats are smarter and all but I know that you’re capable of a little more brain activity than you let on. Plus you whine. All the time. Yeah, you get fleas—well I get squirrels. You really wanna compare? Also, you get fed every freaking three hours. If they’re even a little late you start with the whining again. Do you know how reliable rain is? It’s not a matter of running down to Petco and picking up a sack of Iams.

Where are you going?
Oh, it’s feeding time is it? Well run along then, god forbid your stomach return to a normal size. No, don’t worry about me, I’ll just wait for a thunderstorm. Good talk!

Dogs.

The Eclectic Pen - Nature vs. Nurture

Member Comments

Loading...