The Howling

In the distant wind travels the sorrow howling of a poor soul left out to guard the darkness. His world is limited to that in which is controlled by the massive links of chain that extend from the shameful blundering weekend project once dreamed up and never completed by drunken fools. The hunger masks the taste of any bits thrown his way and the cool has creeped so deep into his bones that even on warm summer nights he shivers and shakes.

He is a “good damn dog”, he has been trained extremely well to endure such conditions. “This will only make him stronger” these drunken idiots will boast as they fail to contain the air in their gutless bellies that clearly have grown to become the better half of them.
All is not loss though, there is moments to reward those who do the job they are tasked with. He must bark at only those who are not from around these parts and he must do such in a way as to make him look viscous and blood thirsty. Whimpering and cuteness will only get him tossed to the back of the line and possibly sent off to “Cousin Henry” for retraining.

There are also moments of freedom but only on special occasions or extreme circumstances such as the thrill of hunting season when he must find every ounce of ambition and energy to chase something through the woods with the desperate hopes to scare the right animal up the damn tree.

The only other circumstance the would call for the chain of despair to be lifted is if someone had too many drunken fits, fell asleep at the wheel, or just wasn’t paying attention to the road, regardless of the true reason some damn wild animal ran that big four-wheel drive off the road into the swamp. These mishaps usually require the use of that massive chain holding that 50-pound dog at bay. The recovery event calls for all within hollering range and usually will allow the dog belonging to the chain of choice to ride in the back of the recovery truck operated by what may seem to have been a blind man. The fear alone forces him to lay terrified in the bed of the truck knowing that he could barely stand let alone run away.

The wind carries the cries of loneliness far away from the dampness and the darkness. The howling is limited to a few bellows followed by silence as he waits for someone somewhere to hear his cry and respond. Listen carefully, do you hear the howling??

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