Darting around the house was exciting, but the endless new things soon made me uneasy. There was no familiar spot to retreat to—no safe corner for comfort.
Although I had my new owner, who seemed kind and understanding so far, a part of me still worried.
What if one day she got angry and decided to throw me away like a broken toy?
If I marked the house as mine, maybe it would start to feel like a safe place. But would she be okay with that? I remembered when I first got to the pet store and how the caretaker grew cold and silent after I peed on the door. Still... maybe this would be different. Maybe she’d understand.
I looked at my owner, peacefully minding her own business near the door, then, quickly, I claimed the space by peeing on the couch.
I stared at the damp edge of the couch, heart racing as I remembered the looks I'd gotten before at the pet shop when I did the same thing. Maybe she won’t notice if I act normal and won't get mad.
Yes. That was the plan.
So, I turned around and calmly walked away, trying to ignore the thumping in my chest.
I sat quietly beside my new owner's feet, occasionally glancing up at her to see if she had noticed the damp stain I’d left behind. But she simply closed the door and smiled down at me, showing no sign of anger or disgust. I let out a small sigh of relief, my tail wagging. I had claimed my territory, and she hadn’t gotten mad!
She spoke to me in her soft, sweet voice, the kind that made me feel safe, then stood and walked toward the kitchen. A wave of rich scents drifted out—spices, warm meat, something savory I couldn’t name. My stomach growled in response.
I trailed after her, hopeful that she’d share something from the table that could ease the hunger that never seemed to end.
But she passed through the kitchen and towards the backyard, to which I grumbled in disappointment with a still hungry stomach. I mindlessly sniffed around until I got startled by the loud squeak of the door, similar to a dog’s desperate cry.
Who knows? Maybe doors have their language, and creaky doors are just tired. I wish they would just give up and stop blocking dogs like me from exploring the rest of the world when we wanted to. I stepped through the door and outside, loving the natural scent of the outdoors.
“I am free and outside!” I barked to the sky as I ran out.
Bam!
I hit my head on the fence.
My owner giggled.
Confused, I looked above to see wooden fencing that looped around the house that I had mistaken for a tree. Guess I am still trapped. I shook my fur, embarrassed.
Well, at least it's better than getting cooped up in a small field at the pet shop. I thought as I began to walk again as if I wasn’t still dizzy from the impact.
I looked back at my owner, only to see her confused and making questioning sounds towards the inside of the house........Oh.
I am done for.
“Ace!” she shouted, her voice sharp with anger. She pointed at me, then at the couch. My ears dropped, and my tail sank low as I slowly padded back to her, guilt weighing down each step. I glanced up at her face—no smile this time, just a deep, disappointed frown.
Unlike the gentle way she had carried me at the pet store, she picked me up firmly, her grip tighter and more serious, but still careful not to hurt me.
She pointed again from me to the wet stain, and spoke with a firm and scolding tone. I understood. I wasn’t supposed to do that here.
Without saying more, she walked me over to the dog pen she had set up earlier and dropped me into it, isolated.
A clear message that this was a punishment.
___________________________
What will you choose to do?
