Petro, the Dog

Petro was a dog born in a cat world.

Petro was a dog. He was born a dog; he grew up a dog; and despite his best attempts, he died a dog. As odd as it may seem, Petro despised his doggy nature from a very young age(1). You see, Petro was born into a family of cats. By some strange turn of events--perhaps the hand of God, or perhaps a trick of nature...--Petro’s mother Eleanor birthed a puppy through and through. Eleanor herself was a pussycat through and through, confident with her felinity (as well as her mate’s!). She, of course, loved Petro from the start and pretended not to notice his differences.

As he grew up, though, his differences became more and more pronounced: his tail wagged wildly, his ears hung limp from his head, and something about his voice just screamed puppy. Petro took no notice of the looks he garnered, however. At least not at first.

One day, Petro and his family went for a walk through the park. Eleanor sent all the kittens (and Petro) to play together in a nearby field so she could sit and chatter with the other pussycats. Several minutes later, Petro was nowhere to be seen. He had run off to the other side of a nearby hill. Eleanor, in distress, began searching for him. What she found as she reached the crest of the hill shocked her p***y core. Petro was with other puppies… sniffing their butts and wrestling(2).

Needless to say, she put a stop to that right then and there. “You are not a dog!” she said. “You are a cat and you must act like a cat.”

Petro was utterly devastated by this sudden change in attitude. And for the first time, he could see how different he really was. Many of his mother’s scoldings now made more sense--don’t talk like that! don’t wag your tail that way! get your face out of that a*s! She didn’t want him to look like a dog.

His devastation continued unabated as his mother, now hellbent on assuaging his “disability” (her mews…), did everything she could to mitigate Petro’s canininity. Once, following a particularly harsh day, Petro was in such a mubble fubble, he ran away from his family. They couldn’t keep up and lost him rather quickly.

Weeks later, Petro was hungry, tired, and he desperately missed his family. He’d survived mainly on dumpster scraps and the occasional pittance granted him by the b*****s on Main Street--they, like their “owners,” tended to pretend they couldn’t see anyone without a custom collar. But he knew he couldn't go back to his family unless he found a way to change, to become the cat they said he was meant to be(3).

One evening, he found himself near the park where his family had been walking that fateful day. He then found himself on the other side of the hill surrounded by dogs large and small, fluffy and smooth, young and old. Lord only knows what doggy events transpired that evening--once Petro had a taste of the ecstasies of his own kind, he lost all sense of time or his surroundings. The next thing he remembered was waking up exhausted and slightly sore, he guessed from a particularly physical romp in the field the night before. Embarrassed and slightly woozy, he sat up, walked back to the main path, and headed home, a fresh resolution to never allow something like the previous night’s events to occur again. He knew his staunchly pussycat mom would have a fit(4), but he was willing to work to change if she was. With the stink of extended physical exertion still lingering on his body, Petro knew in his heart of hearts that he was wrong. He inherently had been wrong all along.

Petro awoke on a park bench the next day with a wicked scratch on his face and the memory of the worst reaming he had ever received. Eleanor did not want to work for it, it seemed. Petro made hardly a move the whole day. He sat still and straight, watching the world and its passersby and contemplating his life and his choices(5). He thought about his pussycat mom’s anger. He thought about his pussycat siblings’ confusion. And he thought about that moment when he learned what shame meant, that moment with the other puppies in the field. He began to cry little puppy tears and sigh little puppy sighs, knowing that the world would never let him have what he wanted(6).

So he made the only choice he had left, the only choice that he felt made any sense.

✧

On the pussycat door to her pussycat home, Eleanor found a note. On it was written a single sentence in rough young puppy handwriting:

If there is love in this world for a puppy like me, I will find it; and if there isn't, I will make it.

--Petro

Petro did find love. And boy did he make it too. On and on until his dying day(7).

1. Two, to be exact. To be approximate, Petro was 14 in people years.

2. As one in the know might expect of a young puppy.

3. A cat of grace and stability. A cat who knew just when to bite the hand that fed it, but also when to nuzzle gently and roll onto its back.

4. "What the hell is a dog like you doing here?" he could hear her hiss, back arched and claws out.

5. How interesting are life's choices when one actually takes the time to reflect on them. How often they come from the most illogical places and yet how fixed they are.

6. Needed, if you aren't an a*****e.

7. He was four. Upon seeing a particularly exciting-looking dog park on the other side of a busy street, Petro darted through traffic. he made it unscathed, but due to a previously undiagnosed heart condition, he passed out. He awoke later in a veterinary hospital with a manchild and woman staring at him. He was “adopted” (their words). Not about that lifestyle, he attempted to run away to no avail. On his last nerve he jumped from a window he thought was closer to the ground. He died of a broken back. 50 of his closest dog friends and his slightly older dog lover were in attendance at his funeral. His mother made a heart-warming but perfunctory speech. Many a growl could be heard beneath the polite applause. She was later hit by a moving truck on her way home. Petro’s siblings ended up in lavish homes of wealthy (mostly gay) humans.

Author's Note

To see this with the original formatting, visit my Google Doc: http://goo.gl/OKuI1W
I'd love to hear thoughts on the general flow and humor.