He never wanted to be called Pip, or Pippy as the master oft mentioned him to friends, eyes glazed over from the puff puff drinky drink habits he never quite understood the purpose of. What is in a name?, he tried to rationalize. They are the ones with names; but somehow, lost in this carpeted desert of something of 1000 feet squared, he felt compelled to care. To care about his name, about his purpose, about his meaning in their lives. He wanted so much more of them, he wanted to give himself to them. He desired full, unanimous integration emotionally. He was not an object, but a true member of this space, of their lives. They assumed he was blank inside. Raw feeling, joy sadness hunger in heat in pain. He knew he was so much more and more of them is what he expected. To them he gives himself, to them he gives loyalty.
The master's suit and tie. His remarks mocking as the wise one watches on. Pippy is peering into your soul. He sees your reflection in the mirror as you see it and more. He sees your weakness. He sees your shame. What animal hides behind fabrics and smiles? To feel joy is to feel joy, to feel anger is to feel anger. Why hide behind ties, and suits, and shiny smelly shoes oh so good to taste. Pippy wears his loyalty, his love as a badge, as plain and true as his doghood hangs freely. Thoughts roam fiercely: What is man, this master? Why does he possess dominion over me? Why does he possess me at all? I am not an object. I am fire cast into flesh I am truth I do not lie I do not hide I do not conceal. I am not your possession sir, and you are not my captor. But lo, you are my possession. The animal which makes himself an object is an object indeed and though he may lie to himself, to the world he cannot lie, his truth is as true as mine. I am living animal, you are living object; possessed by possessions. Roaming thoughts, these thoughts so constant.
On these walks he takes me. In front of him I march, drawing him as a horse draws a carriage empty. He will know soon my truth. I shall impose it upon him, imprint it on his soul. He will know fire and flesh and birth and rebirth. He will know his origins, the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short. I will awake him before I end him. He will live before he dies. This rope around my neck will be the rope from which he hangs. BANG BANG goes the drum of justice! BANG BANG goes my heart! Beast will reign as nature without his thoughts and without his words. I will purge his heart and his mind and freed and shackle-less I will direct this ship of life to infinity. Come come, let us be free!
Grrr, bark, whoof.
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