Dogs of the Universe
Do you know why dogs are most afraid that their owner will abandon them. . . betray them?
We are Stars. That’s what we were called. Back then. . .
We’re just girls, really. We are made this way to serve. As dogs. To serve the one to whom we are given as a master. To our Owner. . . until the death.
They give us to serve when you are three years old. For you, if you count in earth time. For us it is one Cycle.
When we are given at this age, we can remember almost nothing about our mother, . . . father, . . . or anything else that happened before we were brought to the Owner.
He is now the only one we have to obey in everything. Whatever he wants. . .
Everyone obeys. Those who don’t want to are quickly taught how to do it. . .
Here the word “teach” means that you will be beaten until you do the right way.
If you don’t, they’ll just beat you to death.
You also beat your dogs when they don’t listen, don’t you?
That’s how I was taught as well. . . .
I don’t know why this happens, but at first you are afraid and hate the Owner. . .
Then you start to think that it was your own fault and that he was fight to punish you. . .
You try to make amends, atone for it. . . You start waiting for his approval. . .
Then his approval becomes the most important thing in your life and you think that you love him, that any sign of his approval of your service means that he also loves you and you are afraid of losing this love, this service. . . and anyone who wants to take away even the smallest part of his attention becomes your enemy.
Well, so what. . . that he recently beat you up, but after all. . .
So it was just the mood. . . I fulfilled his wish well.
No, we don’t get fucked. . . we’re not pretty. . . The girls-death. . . those are. . .
We are only for the service. . . different. . .
The Owner had a lot of girls. . . older than me and younger. . . well, that’s when I grew up. . .
All of them tried to please their beloved and they all wanted to be the most perfect in his every order.
I was probably the most perfect, which is why he ordered to kill me so late.
I was fifteen years old, for you.
He had killed others much earlier. Usually at the age of twelve. . . if they tried hard to serve. . .
And those who did not try hard were killed at any age. . . so that others can do their best.
We were continuing to serve even when the Owner was killing us. . .
He cut out my entire left side and ripped out my guts. . . I was slowly dying. . .
I lay on my right side on the floor, crouched in pain, trying to hide it. . . and didn’t cry. . . Served so. . . Him. Beloved.
When you are killed, the soul seeks a body in which it can complete its short-lived life.
So I found it.
Dog. Still young. Black.
It seemed appropriate to me.
It always wanted to serve as well. Like other dogs.
They had people like me in them, too. . . killed. For the service. Who considered the service the main thing in their lives.
When you live in a dog, you don’t understand much , you just try to follow orders as best as you can. And that’s it.
You try to guess the owner’s wishes, read his thoughts. . . try to be obedient, even if the dog’s body wants something completely different. . . .
Just not to be betrayed. . . don’t throw me away as useless.
I look into the owner’s eyes. . . he thinks that I’m old and he needs to get another one, and I. . .
I started crying. . . dogs cry too. . . sometimes. . . when there’s no point in living. . .
There is no one else to serve.
And when he thinks “put to sleep” – it’s not about sleep, is it? Really?