Confessions of a Circus Dog

I often looked straight ahead and couldn’t describe it. Every object and every human were melted into one black hole, I think the same as my eyes. I couldn’t tell well as for us, dogs, it’s usually very little we could ask from life: a bowl of food or water and a shelter from our generous owner. I could have that. Only that. I didn’t have anything else. Loud music all day, bumpy road, and all those arguments the others had with each other constantly. Being able to speak doesn’t mean that you have to use your mouth all day. I would know what to do with my speech if I could talk. I imagine other dogs have a lot of fun with their owners, I saw them many times walking next to me, behind this wire fence they always separate the circus from the rest of the world. The other dogs walked proudly, some of them never stopped, some of them just barked at me. I never respond because they usually speak with such an aristocratic dialect I don’t quite follow. And they wouldn’t understand me probably too, if I opened my muzzle.

I never get any mail from them either. No dog has ever tried to pee close enough to the fence to let me feel something familiar. Being on the walk must be awesome, being able to feel the wind in your fur, to catch the sun in your eyes. My owners were leaving me in the shade all day, I think my fur darkened too much. I remember when it was much brighter and shinier. And after the night is falling with its violent violet view. I shiver and my teeth are rattling in fear of the eternal abandonment. Every other representatives of my race abandoned me anyway leaving only ignorance or hate.

There were usually few people on the path who stopped by me and looked me in the eyes. ‘Those sad eyes... Are you stranded here the whole day? Poor creature!’ That kind of conversation they had with me, nothing more. They were gone within a minute, but there was this girl she kept staring at me for a while. She even dared to smack her lips through the ear-splitting noise. I could see and hear her only after her third try towards me. I must be already deaf. I spent here all my adult life; I don’t remember what was before. Humans fed me, but apart from that there was just a mutual silence between us. If I could speak, I could say something about their business doing here, what I think about it. But instead of that I keep dreaming about the ship on the horizon that is passing along the beach and that someday will take me far away from here. But will they ever dare to put our circus on the beach? I really doubt that.

At least humans didn’t demand from me to show off in front of the other people. I wouldn’t dare to do that because I’m too shy. And too old. I must be closer to death than to my birth as everyone knows that dogs live shorter than humans. I’m also too big, I’m not a couch dog, I could protect the property properly, if anyone required this from me. I would know what to do. I could scare any burglar to death with my teeth, I wouldn’t be tempted with any sausage he could offer me, I don’t eat them anyway. I could be good, I could mean something, be something, do something useful. And not just staring at the people and things through a distorted lens of my damaged brain. I could even be a tracking dog – although I’m not a German Shepherd usually good at it, but with a little training I could try my best.

I want to also mention that my name is Dominic and I am a circus dog. Nice to meet you, human. Whenever and wherever you see a similar soul to mine, please be kind. It’s not true that we don’t feel, think, or produce figments of our imaginations. We do, just on a different level of consciousness.

– THE END –

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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