Post a response:
|
There's a stray dog in my room. It has a broken leg. It yelps from time to time when it steps on the injured foot. Some people find it funny. Most find it disgusting; a filthy, uninteresting creature that should never have been born and should be put down for the benefit of the society. I wonder what the dog thinks of itself these days. I don't think it would make much sense for it to appreciate it's lot in life. It has a broken leg. Most people think it should be put down for this reason. It prevents it from doing a lot of things, after all. I've noticed the dog has very little interest in life anymore. It sits around. It knows it can't chase cars, and it knows it wouldn't be able to do anything with them if he caught them anyway. Two reasons not to get one's hopes up. It knows the leg will only get worse over time. Worst of all, it knows no one wants to help it. Maybe it deserves it, it does bight after all. In a myriad of pain, confusion and frustrated irritability it yaps and snarls at the very few people that try to fix its leg. It believes it can't be fixed; the humans think they know better, and maybe this is true. But a dog is just a dog, it will believe what it believes. There is no truth. Besides, all the people that can help with its leg are far too busy tending to their own wounds anyway. Just another stray that yaps at them for trying to help... who would put the time of day into such a pathetic creature? Not even able to see what is good for it, what it should do. Someone should step in, take over, but no one will, probably no one could. So the stray sits in my room and whimpers over its leg, afraid, in pain and irritable. It can achieve nothing in its state and nothing can be achieved for it in its state. It looks out the window and sees the cars and life roll on by. It believes nothing it wants can be caught, not with its leg the way it is, the way it always has been. But what does a dog know? Maybe this isn't true. But a dog is a dog, and it believes what it believes. There is no truth. And no one cares anymore for its incessant yapping. 'Let it die,' they think to themselves, as they return to their day. tAD |