‘My master always smells like a spring meadow’
‘My master always smells like a spring meadow’
For as long as I can remember, I’ve sat steadfast by my master’s side. I have revered him for his many precious gifts of love and affection. The man has taken me to interesting places and showed me things which I wouldn’t otherwise know. For all of those wonderful traits and others, his benevolence is unquestioned. I always lie at his feet and patiently wait for him to arise. Then I lick his hand when he offers it, in my loyal tribute.
In truth, my master always smells like a spring meadow. His familiar soapy scent has washed over my olfactory sense a hundred times as it passed through my nostrils. I’ve sniffed his fragrant skin until it’s permanently etched into my mind. There‘s no question of his identity. It’s definitely him lying motionless on the floor. Unfortunately that ‘spring meadow’ now seems like it has a ‘decaying elk carcass’ lying in it.
I’m starting to get very hungry. I’m losing confidence he will feed me anytime soon. I’ve licked him a dozen times to wake him up but he just lies there. Why is he ignoring me? I’ve whimpered and barked with increasing fury but he still hasn’t moved at all. With my stomach rumbling furiously now, I don’t know how much longer I can wait; but what choice do I have? I’m starving and he just lies there like a selfish jerk! I want to paw and bite him in anger for making me suffer like this. The fact is, he doesn’t really smell like himself anymore. I’m starting to forget who he was. All I can think of is the room temperature meat lying on the floor.