going slightly rogue here

This is it. This is really what my life has equated to. A cage, amongst dozens of other cages. Cages full of MUTS. I Cant count how many of these I’ve eaten in the past hundred years. Labradors, Great Danes, Beagles. You name it, but you stray just a little too close to the U.S boarder and they snag you like you’re just some loose house hold pet. Does no one else think, maybe, just maybe I look a little bizarre to be here??? I could always wrap my tongue around the next person that walks by? Maybe they’ll think “oh yes that’s clearly not a dog but in fact a mythical cryp-“ no no no this is America, they’ll shoot me and serve me at a barbecue.

Before I could finish my thought, I’d the entree door opened and a rush of voices, adults, children, men, women. Clamoring like the annoyances they are. Each one passed me, degrading me in a number of ways that I would reciprocate ten fold if it weren’t for these bars. This went on for hours, I curse adoption day.

As the last one leaves, I curl myself in a ball when all of a sudden a soft voice at my cage causes me to rise, in defense I hiss and snarl to the back of my prison.

“Wait I like this one daddy” The voice is coming from a girl child, bound to some sort of rolling chair, her tiny head shaved, her frame exposing through the skin.

One of my captors rushes over. “Oh no not that one, he’s green. We think he’s got the mange”

The father of the girl approaches. “He has spikes too, I’m not really sure that’s a dog honey”

The girl presses against my cage. I can’t help but get closer, she draws me in like a siren, I’m not sure why but I think I would die for this human. She reaches her tiny hand in and as if by design, without fail I butt it with my head. I’ve lost control of my body.

“Of course he’s a dog, he’s the best boy there ever was, arent you??!?!”

And to this day, I will defend this home. I will defend my family. I WILL eat scraps from the dinner table. I AM MANS BEST FRIEND.

I am Fluffy.