My sister in law owns a big, 90 lbs., black dog. I think it weighs more than her, when she takes her on the leash for a walk around the neighborhood, one may suspect it is the one taking her for a walk as you see them walking. Almost looking like a small bear, one day the garbage collector went white seeing it from a distance.

Well, dogs eat anything and everything, licking the plate clean and spotless leaving no traces behind. If the cat is fed and leaves its food untouched the dog comes from behind to finish the business. It knows that the birds are getting fed from the feeder installed by the glass window, sometimes it sits close by and attempts to reach it or maybe just hoping the feeder falls so it could finish the business. They are a living garbage compactor, anything thrown inside the mouth goes in like a hungry wolf who’s never had breakfast.

At home when having dinner he sure has his share of scraps from everybody. He would sit down at the foot of the table waiting for its share from everybody anytime, anywhere, anyhow. As a human being at times its not delightful. You get rushed to finish your food, annoying that your peace and privacy is being invaded, though its just a dog. It doesn’t recognize peace or any of those complicated human psychological eccentricities.

While getting ready for my plate one dinnertime,  I saw the dog laying on its bed in front of the tv. It didn’t come nosing around  but expecting it would,  once I sit on the table. Turning around to walk from the kitchen counter to the dining table our eyes met, I could almost see him getting up tailing from behind, but no. I was wrong. I sat down, glancing at him again, he was still laying on the dog bed.

As soon as I sat on the chair I expected him to be by my side and to my surprised he wouldn’t bulge. I stab the meat from the plate into my mouth, still looking at the dog. He wasn’t moving or doing anything. How is the dog? I asked my sister in law, its owner. Fine, she said. Finally, at the back of my mind I said to myself, there’ll be peace and privacy. But all these time while eating I was looking at the dog, his eyes staring at another object, averting the dish on my plate.

Are you sure he is fine? I probed the sis-in-law. From her ipad playing scrabble, she glance at him a few seconds, afterwards gave me reassurances that nothing is wrong.

When I finish my food, I called the dog, ” Jake, come here!” His face lit up, lifted his head,  jump from the bed and sprinted towards me. The plate was as clean as a weasel when he left.

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/hope/”>Hope</a&gt;


2 thoughts on “Hope

  1. Pingback: Eating Like A Refugee | The Ration Challenge | Ramisa the Authoress

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