He is different, It isn’t like there is something missing…I don’t see the thing that makes him…him. It’s almost like he’s…average. I hope he didn’t sell it, his soul, that is, to take his new job. I admit I have been eating a little more than I have in the past, but I don’t think that’s what he did. I would eat the table scraps if he let me.
It could be something else, maybe it’s the struggle of getting into a new routine, or he is running late because I hid his keys again, or he is sulking because he couldn’t find a holster for his walker. This is different; I can’t put my paw on anything specific. I can’t believe that he sold his soul just for a few bags of Beggin Strips.
I must be jumping to conclusions, something I need to quit doing — these days I have a hard enough time jumping on the couch. I need to be rational. It’s not like there is a market for worn souls on eBay. Besides, l don’t know who would want that thing being so used and all. I know he has a lot left in it; time that is. Sure, I know where it’s been. I have been with him my whole life. I know he had a life before me, rumor has it he even had another dog. He is consumed with time these days, but People-time doesn’t work for me. I barely understand it. Who needs a watch anyway. It either time to eat, time to sleep, or it isn’t.
I don’t understand why anyone would want more than one soul anyway. I’m pretty sure that everyone gets a free one when they come into this world. I can share mine with him, even if it’s a little different from his. When I’m gone, it’s gone; well, sort of. His will last forever. I have no idea how many candles that is; all I know is that I better have the guys from Fire House Subs ready to roll. That reminds me, I better see if they deliver.
I’m not complaining, I like being his sidekick. He tells me everything, well, most things; for sure, the things that he thinks I can handle. Come to think of it. He still hasn’t shared his Manifesto with me or told me why Paul had to die…or explained what exactly is a walrus. An artic flippered mammal’ really? Maybe he isn’t telling me as much as I think he is. I still don’t know what to make of all these petty things. I guess he is entitled to a few secrets
Maybe something isn’t missing after all. Could it be he’s finally at peace? Maybe that’s what’s missing, all that stress he’s been lugging around so long. I hope that’s the case; then my job is easy, I’ll have to take him for a walk and to get him back writing. I don’t want to be the only dog at the park with a person who doesn’t know the meaning of hard work; or worse, someone who could easily be swayed to vote for Bernie. It takes a lot of persuading on my part to get people to believe…that…my person is just an average Joe. He thinks he’s so much more. Most days, so do I.
Thanks for reading and sharing.
Ivy the Wonder Pup, a friend to many, a sidekick to one.
Hey Daddio, when do I get to read your Manifesto?