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“You’re quite like me, aren’t you?” Caleb murmurs, crouching just out of reach of a dog on a chain. The dog lays in the dirt, unbothered.
“All chained up with nowhere to go, no-one to be,” he continues, “What would happen if I cut you loose? They want to keep you here, would you run free?” The dog looks up, tilting his head.
“If so, where would you go? So long spent tamed, could you survive alone in the wild? It can be cruel out there, you know,” the man paused, “But perhaps it’s a worse cruelty to keep one trapped...”
The dog stares back, contemplating the thought. That, or searching for signs of potential food scraps the man might throw to him. It’s hard to tell.
“Would you stay alone? Perhaps you’d find friends, out there in the world. A little band of doggies, running wild, having fun,” Caleb chuckles at the thought, and reaches forward to give a gentle scratch behind the dog’s ear. The dog leans into his hand, wagging his tail, a thump-thump-thump in the dirt.
“You know, these people I've come across, they aren’t too bad. They’re... strange, I will admit, but I'm certain they’d say the same of me. It's nice… having some company, it’s been a while. Even if they can get a bit... nosy,” the man wrinkles his nose at the thought, then sighs, drawing his hand back and averting his gaze. The dog lets out a small whine at the loss of contact. It attempts a step forward but with a jingle of the chain the movement is halted.
“I’m afraid I may have to leave them, when the time comes,” Caleb laments, leaning back on his palms. He gazes at the clouds drifting overhead and catches a glimpse of a waxing crescent moon in the afternoon skies, before it’s once more swallowed by a passing cloud. “I couldn't bear to hurt anybody... and if anyone finds out what I've—” he shudders, squeezing his eyes shut and slumping forwards once more.
When he opens them again, he’s greeted by the sight of the dog lying on its back, beckoning for belly-rubs.
Letting out a fond sigh, the man obliges, shifting himself a few steps closer to run his hands back and forth through the muddied fur. The thumping of the tail returns.
“Either way, you have no weight on your shoulders, little one. Keep it that way. I’ll not bother you with any more of my ramblings, you’ve no use for my melodrama”.
The dog, knowing nothing of what has been said, continues to enjoy the attention as the afternoon sun shines down.
“You’re a good dog.”