Wishing Her Well



Everyone says I have a pretty face. I guess so. I have dark brown eyes that betray my feelings. My cream color makes me stand out in a crowd.

Beauty is as beauty does. How a mutt looks doesn’t matter as much as what a mutt does.

Mom says my spirit is pure. I’m not sure. I have evil thoughts and I’ve done some nasty things.

I wished Tess would have an early death and suddenly she was gone from a fast growing tumor. I bit little Journey right after she arrived at Asherpark.

Mom says I can be forgiven my trespasses because of what was done to me. Maybe. It’s true my mother and I were victims of extreme cruelty. But on the other hand we were rescued, cared for and ultimately driven to Asherpark, where we were surrounded by kindness and love.

Then along comes little Journey. Born into a loving home, handled with care, and chosen at the tender age of four weeks. She came home to Asherpark just before she turned eight weeks old.

JourneySuch a cute little bug of a pup. She will grow up to be a beauty. More importantly she has the temperament to be a very special soul. She’s had every advantage: puppy classes, puppy play times, day school and puppy boarding plus the doting attention of her human mom and her Uncle Asher.

When Journey first arrived I admit I was envious. She is beautifully formed, has a pleasing disposition, and her blue eyes draw people to her.

In contrast I’m malformed, crippled, and stained with the leakage from my tumor. Journey is everything I am not. Life isn’t fair, I know that. But sometimes I just wish things could be a little more equal.

I bit Journey because I resented her and wanted nothing to do with her. Though she screamed in pain, she seemed more perplexed than angry. In fact she has never held it against me that I drew blood with my bite.

Over the past few months I have watched her grow. When she is asleep in her crate I quietly move onto the bed next to her. I watch her while her puppy dreams make her squirm and wiggle. I listen quietly as she sighs and chortles in her sleep.

Journey is everything I would have wished for myself but could never be. I have no answers, only questions. I wish Journey well. Her puppy silliness has helped displace the sorrow at Asherpark.

If I live long enough Journey and I may become friends. For now it is enough that I can watch her develop. I get a sort of vicarious pleasure when she does well.

Most of all I am happy for Asher that he has a playmate again. The Blue Dogs as mom calls them. I wish them both well.

Journey and Asher

Journey and Asher






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