Life on a chain

You wake up and are cold and achy. Your doghouse lets plenty of the wind and snow in but at least it has three walls, a roof and a floor. There used to be an old rag on that floor. It got dirty very quickly and it was never particularly warm. But at least it was something you could curl up against and feel the tiniest bit of softness. But that was long ago and by now the rag has disintegrated into individual threads of fabric which the wind keeps blowing around the yard and beyond. Beyond the yard, that's an interesting thought. You hardly think about that world anymore since you haven't seen it for years, since the day they chained you to your doghouse. You hear sounds coming from that world and you used to respond to them with a bark, a howl, or a whimper. You hardly ever do that anymore since the human yells at you every time you do it.

There are days when the wind, so bone-chillingly cold most of the time, brings interesting smells from the world beyond the yard. You know they make your mouth water, even if you can't identify what they represent. Your stomach growls and you check your bowl. It's been probably a day since you hungrily finished the piece of dry bread that the human threw into it. Maybe one of these weeks you'll get a bone again. Long ago you gave up on hoping there would be actual meat on the bone. You shiver and have a sip of the dirty water in your bowl.

You go back into your doghouse and curl up in a corner, trying to feel as much of the walls against your body as you can. You close your eyes and imagine these walls are actually something else. Maybe the backs of other pups in the pack you so desperately wish you had. Maybe even a human's lap. You know it's no use (and it may actually earn you a kick in the ribs) but every time you see the human your heart leaps in the briefest of hopes that maybe this time he will pet you. Scratch your ears or your belly, tell you that you are a good dog. Because you so desperately try to be a good dog. You stay as quiet as you can. You keep the tiny radius that your chain allows as clean as possible by relieving yourself as far away from your doghouse as the chain allows. You haven't asked for a new rag, it's ok that you had one for a while, you didn't mean for it to get all torn up. And you wait. You wait for the day when the human might actually take a liking to you. You wait.

Life on a chain is terrible and lonely. No dog deserves such existence!