there's this dog that's just bad at it. at being a dog. something must be wrong with it. the dog has a family, they love this dog, they were very excited to get the dog, and they chose this dog out of a mess of dogs in the shelter. it was cute, still is in it's own way. an adorable thing, really, a tiny picture-perfect puppy and the family was all smiles taking the dog home but it was just bad at being a dog. training was a non-issue, the dog only did their business when brought outside and the family would squat to pick up it's shit with a plastic bag, the dog never hopped on furniture it wasn't allowed to, the dog never barked, indoors or outdoors, and it never ate the family's food, never even tried to. the family thought this was wonderful behavior but there was other things about being a dog that this dog just didn't do. it didn't play, at all. never chased after a ball, never bit down on a rope. every walk with the dog felt more like dragging it around, the dog never wanting to move on its own. the dog didn't wag its tail at being told how good they were, at being petted, at given treats. it barely registered treats as anything different than its regular kibble. every meal, dehydrated meat chunks or a sneaked whirl of whip cream from one of the children, was eaten as a duty but never a fervor. it sat next to whoever brought them to the dog park and even other dogs knew this dog wasn't good at being a dog. though this dog never did have any issues with sleep, with diet, his waste always looked fine, it didn't seem anything was wrong. the family doesn't know exactly when but at some point the dog was brought to a vet, who surmised that the dog must be in some kind of pain, gave him meds, and the family didn't have to squeeze pills in cheese or anything, the dog just ate them fine. nothing changed but they never stopped giving him the meds. sometimes it'd be a different medication, a different vet with a different theory on what's wrong. some thought it was bad joints, another wanted xrays to see if it was a cancer, yet another tested for illnesses. no one ever guessed right, though. it just shouldn't have been a dog. the dog wasn't fit for being a dog. years of this go on. the family doesn't even think of getting another dog, they already have the one. the dog was fine enough, they figured. it's not in pain, not really, the dog's fine as is. a fixture of the family like a piece of furniture. it's almost kind of endearing, entertaining even, to see how long the dog just keeps going as it is. they keep the dog, celebrate each birthday with all of them there, the dog behaving as if it's any other day. four years old, seven years old, twelve years old, sixteen years old, twenty, twenty-five... then the dog bites someone. someone in the family. no real reason other than it's a dog and dogs bite. one hand bleeds as the other hand strikes the dog, a hammer of a fist making it whine for the first time. it sank fangs just once and years of dutiful love toward it collapse into a gravity of resentment. all this nerve to never act like a dog and now it suddenly wants to fucking bite someone? after all they did for the dog? all those years tolerating it? they end the dog's life without much ceremony in the backyard. they're all righteous, brimming with adrenaline, all smiles. this is right. the dog shouldn't have bit someone.
2087
kianamaiart
romaincrisis
germansingergirl
blakekathryn
