“From a dogs perspective, tales for consideration and consternation”
It was a Tuesday in Toledo, a town where stories lingered in the air like the scent of fresh-baked bread from Mrs. Johnson’s bakery. I was lost, all alone under a pile of logs, a woeful predicament that befell me one autumn afternoon. The guard at the gate saw me, a two-legged beast with a cap that read “Security.” I hid deeper in the log pile, afraid of the unknown that walked on two legs.
As I cowered behind the logs, the guard, a kind-hearted soul, put a piece of chicken out in front of the log pile, salvaged from his lunch bucket. It was a tempting offering, a beacon of hope in my dire situation. With cautious curiosity, I took a chance, peeking out from my hiding spot. But fate had other plans – he caught me.
He took me home, this two-legged beast with a heart as warm as Toledo’s summer sun. I was afraid and shy, uncertain of what awaited me. He fed me and, to my surprise, subjected me to a bath. What’s up with a bath? I wondered. I liked the smell of nature clinging to my fur. And cut my hair? It seemed like a strange ritual, but I was grateful nonetheless.
All has been well since that day. We walk down Main Street, a bustling thoroughfare where the two-legged beasts always pat my head. Why? They are very nice, and my two-legged friend keeps me in tow with a necklace and strap. I may not understand the ways of the two-legged creatures, but I’ve come to appreciate the companionship.
Yet, amidst the cordial greetings and happy faces on Main Street, I sense something more – a subtle pain in their hearts, a quiet ache beneath the surface. They may appear content, but I see beyond the façade. My two-legged friend guides me past the façade, ensuring my leash is secure.
Once, I spotted a tempting scrap on the sidewalk, a morsel of potential delight. But the jerk on the strap stopped me short, a reminder of the rules that governed our walks. I like scraps, but the two-legged world had its own set of rules. Despite the occasional restraint, life in Toledo was good – a mix of mystery, kindness, and the occasional forbidden treat.
Submitted for our reader enjoyment by Jimmy.
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