I really like dogs. I don’t get cats. It would be difficult for me to live with an animal that has as much drama as I do. I am thinking of a breed of puppy that will grow into a large dog. Because I love dogs so much I decided to write a whole story about dogs this week. The title of my story is Black and White.
Once upon a time in a country far, far away, there was a large farm run and owned by dogs. Plenty of them. In fact, in just one section of the farm there were over a hundred dogs. A hundred and nine to be precise. This section was slightly elevated in the farm and so they called it Top House. Top House pretty much controlled everything: who came into the farm, who ate what and how much food everyone had. Top House was an exclusive area and only those invited could go in there. Everyone came to them for favors, even the new owner of the farm, an old wolf called White. They called him White because of how clean his fur was. But Top House was far from clean. There was filth and gambling and stealing and weekly acts of perversion. The farm used to have cattle but Top House stole and ate them all. White had a huge task in rebuilding this farm that had been run down by it’s previous owner.
White reached an agreement with Top House to share control of the farm just so there would be peace. There were too many of them for him to kick them out. One of the agreements they reached was that any new worker the White would hire would have to be approved by Top House. There was this very energetic Wolf that White knew called Black. Black earned his name from being able to blend in the night when he went to eat up people’s cows. The previous owner had expelled Black out of malice. Black then helped White buy the farm so he could return; without Black’s money, White would not have been able to afford the farm. Black used to have friends in Top House, some of whom he would share his stolen cows with. But some of them hated him. Top House kept postponing the dates for Black to appear before them and White was getting frustrated. He could not just tell Black that he was sorry and could not offer him a job: Black’s money was part of the reason he owned the farm in the first place. So White kept putting pressure on Top House.
On a certain Monday morning, Top House finally agreed to assess Black’s suitability for employment as White’s trusted assistant who would protect the cows that he was planning to buy.
A senior member of Top House who had been accused several times of eating up stolen cows, and still had blood stains from the last cow he ate on his paws, stood up to begin.
“Black!” he shouted. “We in Top House have received some worrying news about your days of stealing and eating cows. Many dogs have brought reports to us alleging that you rounded up cows that did not belong to you, ate most of them and sold the rest to enable White buy this farm. Now you are here before us seeking employment to protect the cows that White is about to buy. How do we know that you will not just eat them up? Can you assure this Top House that you will not eat cows?”
“I don’t even know how to eat meat,” Black replied, staring at the dried blood on the paws of the dog that had just finished speaking – blood of cows.
“I have never ever eaten cow meat in my life, stolen or otherwise,” Black continued. “As a vegan, I do not even know the difference between cow meat and other meat. Perhaps the good member of Top House can share his expertise with me.”
The crowd in Top House burst into laughter. An argument ensued between those who wanted Black in and those who did not. Anxiety about being rejected by Top House made Black lose weight and have sunken eyes.
In the end however, they sorted out all their issues with Black and in fact went into long friendly banter about the scourge of cow theft and consumption. Dog after dog in Top House made Black promise that he would do everything in his power as assistant to White, to end cow theft.
“Under my watch,” Black said, “no one will steal cows. Those days are gone. Change has come to this farm!”
Thereafter there was a thunderous applause and barking from Top House. They approved Black as an assistant to White and told him to howl and go.
Outside, Top House supporters of Black asked him how it felt to have crossed that hurdle.
“I thank God,” Black said, “none of them were able to find blood stains on my paws or fur. And it is not that they didn’t want to. It is just that they are too covered in cow blood to see mine clearly.”
White was ecstatic about this and expressed his enthusiasm about beginning the serious work of raising cattle on the farm, bringing cows back to a place where they were once endangered. Everyone on the farm hoped that Black would not go back to his cow eating ways and splash blood on White’s pretty fur.
This is the end of my story. I hope you enjoyed it. Two things though:
1. This is fiction. Any resemblance to real persons dead or alive is purely coincidental.
2. No animals were harmed in the production of this story. Because I care.