Do Dogs Dream?

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From the perscpective of man’s best friend

Barf, Barf!

Barf here, barf there, then eat that barf afterwards. Sniffing trash bins and what not. It’s a hard knock life to be a dog. Run, sleep, eat, run some more. Then sleep some more.

It’s so hard being a canine. Imagine given all the time in the world to do whatever you want. It’s so hard to decide what to do with all those hours. Just thinking about it makes me fall asleep and that about solves my problem of decision making. Thinking is just to tiring, more tiring than playing catch and running around. But now I don’t have the luxury to do both things now, I just want to slump in my corner and catch some Zzzs. I’m old now. And I miss the good old days.

I just want to be with my master now. He comes home late nowadays. Far from the days I would watch him from the creases in the gate climbing off the school bus all stained uniform and all hugging me like we hadn’t seen each other in weeks. But now he rarely comes home early. And when he does I think I’m overshadowed by the new puppies they bought a few days back. Sometimes he even forgets to look at me and greet me at the door. I know I shouldn’t be jealous, but the new ones seem to have his whole interest now. I can’t blame him. Why would he cuddle a ragged old mutt like me waning to old age and hair falling all over the place.

I still remember though the first time he carried me and kissed me, and I kissed him back licked his ears and wagged my tail at amusement of his childish laugh. We would play all day and he would love how high I went for that tennis ball we used to play with. He never minded the mud and soil in between his ears and neither did I as we rolled over in the garden. We had tons of fun but now it is all but a reminiscence slowly fading away from memory.

Now I am old and my knees now ache. I can no longer give the happiness we both shared when he was a kid. The sharpness of my vision has dwindles through the years. Even my sense of smell time did not forget to slowly steal away. I think I have no use now, but an old dog who barks at the gate to let the owners know there’s someone outside. At night I dream of the good old days, where every color was more vivid and livelier than now. I dream that I run with him, side by side. Like partners in crime we dashed. A dream more satisfying than the reality I have today.

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