Dog Thirteen, Eeyore

Eeyore

June 19, 2023

Almost all my litter mates are gone now, and I understand what is happening. We are all going to new humans. I don’t know what happens when we go with new humans, but I know that new humans come, they look at us all very closely, they pick us up, handle us in a variety of ways- some nice, some not nice- and either put us back in our area, or say, “I’ll take him!” Or her. Depending on the dog. Everyone keeps putting me back in the area, and I don’t know how I feel about that. I have some confusing feelings about the whole matter.

One on hand, I like being put back. I am very familiar with this space, with these humans, I know what to expect on a day-to-day basis. I know what food I will eat, when I will sleep, where I will sleep. I know that I will get a bath every few days, and that when I do, I get a special treat. I know that when I smell a sweet, woodsy smell, that the female human is coming to check on us, and that when a muskier, smokier scent makes its way to my nose, that the male human is coming.

If you aren’t aware, dogs can smell incredibly well. I remember reading this when I was a human… I think. Maybe I heard the humans here talk about it. I can’t remember very well anymore. Not from before. Every once in a while, I have a clear thought and then poof, gone. I suppose it’s ok, there’s not much to remember anyway. I did have a strange dream a few sleeps ago, and in it I could see my whole childhood, but when I woke up I couldn’t remember anything about my family, or being a child. I heard a voice in the distance call out Charlie, but that’s about all I remember.

But I do remember that dogs can smell well, and I suppose it doesn’t matter how I know that. I just know that when I was first getting used to being a dog, this could be quite overwhelming. I can smell everything. Sometimes even seconds, or minutes even, before whatever is carrying that scent arrives. Now I like to make it a game, trying to make out the individual scents the way a wine enthusiast might swirl a glass around before “checking the nose,” declaring it has floral notes from a region of Argentina, and hints of tobacco that only occur during certain months. I can’t remember my childhood but I remember that, go figure. But by doing this, making it a game, pulling out each individual smell and trying to identify it, it helps me to not feel overwhelmed by it all. It is also how I know when the humans are coming, and which one it is.

And over the last few days, there have been a lot of new humans coming and going, and a lot of new smells that come with them. I can tell what they ate, how long ago they ate. I can tell if they have been near other animals. And on one of them, I could smell this sour smell which was unfamiliar, and I somehow knew the sour smell was sickness, but I had no way to let them know. And every one of them put me back, even the one with the sickness.

Like I said, I like being put back, because I like my routine here, and I don’t particularly want to go anywhere else, or with any other humans. However, every time they put me back, they end up taking one of my litter mates. I may as well call them my brothers and sisters, because that is what they are, so one by one, I watch my brothers and sisters leave. So, while I like where I am, I get sad. Every time one of them leaves, I have one less sibling to play with, one less sibling to snuggle with when it is time to take a nap. I am sad to see them go, and I worry a little bit about what is going to happen to them when they get where they are going. And now almost all of them are gone. Its just me and Number 8 with the Red Collar.

I understand why he is still here- as I mentioned before, he doesn’t see to particularly care what anyone thinks of him, but I have to wonder, why doesn’t anyone want me? And that makes me feel sad. Am I not cute enough? I try to make my eyes look so sad and wag my tail a lot, so the humans think I am cute. When they poke at me and look in my ears or touch my feet or when a tiny human comes and pulls on my tail, I don’t yelp, I don’t squirm, I don’t bite. I just try to stay as still as possible so that they think I’m a dog they want to take away with them, wherever “away” is. I try to do all the things I see the other ones do, and nothing is working. No one wants me, I’m afraid. Maybe that is why the humans say, “he looks so sad!” Maybe they know.

So, I guess it is a good thing that I don’t mind being here too much, and that the routine of it all gives me comfort. I might be here forever.