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It Is Better to be Feared...

My thoughts on my cousin the dog

By Gal MuxPublished 7 days ago 4 min read
Photo by ssaaiiffgg28 on Pixabay

"You see, we are all wired for self-preservation. And sometimes, playing dumb and refraining from using might however much of it we may possess is the best way to survive," I remember my cousin the dog telling me.

Is it genius? Or is it dumb? My cousin feels it is the former. I however feel it's trickery. 

Why hide when you can roar?

The guy gets shelter and food provided for him. Even clothing, if he is dumb enough to allow that foolery on himself. There is nothing more ridiculous than clothes on a canine. But what he gets the most according to him is praise. And love. Oh, you should see him wagging his tail for treats. Pathetic! 

Why wait to be given when you have the power to take? And not just one bite. All that you can get! 

He likes being called "adorable" and a "good boy". 

Poor guy, always with emotional needs. 

Yes, I know what they say. I'm aware of the stories they tell their children about me. 

Apparently, I, a long time ago, was following a little girl in a red hood deep in the forests. Then I swallowed her sick grandmother, wore her clothes -  complete with her bonnet and glasses and lay in her bed pretending to be her so that I could swallow the little girl too when she arrived. 

How ridiculous! 

Or that I kept puffing a thatched house with three little pigs inside it wanting to swallow them whole. 

I do not say that I cannot swallow a sickly grandmother whole, or a little girl even. Hunger pangs are the grave curse you realise you are afflicted with only when they strike. And little pigs, at least if their cousins the boars are anything to go by, are yummy.

But seriously, have you seen these teeth? 

Why would I swallow a grandmother whole when I am gifted with sharp strong teeth for tearing to make the swallowing easier? 

You know small bites are tastier right? 

I feel apathy for this creature I share sanguinity with. Our kind is blessed with valiant. Yet he chooses to reduce himself to nothing but a plaything. 

Who would know what the dog would be if he combined the wit he has managed to capture the humans with and the might he once had right here in the wild? 

Mightier than a tiger maybe? Fiercer than a mountain lion? More vicious than an angry bear?  

I feel nothing but apathy for my cousin the dog. How little he has reduced himself to just so that he can love, be loved, and be branded loyal. 

I will do everything but stoop. I will not curl my tail. 

I also feel sad for him. I wonder if he will be able to handle what's coming for him. 

Humans are getting colder and colder. I no longer see them out here as much as I used to. And those that I see are usually immersed in objects they hold in their hands or look through. Before, you could feel the fire burning in them for the world around them. 

I can feel the coldness myself, even though I have never felt their warmth. And very soon these humans might turn into these objects themselves with no need for loyalists or play leaving my poor cousin with no place amongst them. 

Where will he go then? 

Will he choose to return to the wild which may have moved on and forgotten him? Or will he attempt to bring with him the treachery he has been surviving on all these aeons back to us? 

But more so, I feel sad for the humans for falling for the trick. They have been harbouring, as they say, a wolf in sheep's clothing. Even covering up for him every time his ferocious fangs get revealed. 

Yes, I'm aware of that one too. As though I would be dumb enough to loiter around exuding the smell of prey and attract the more vicious to myself. 

I can never choose such an existence. 

I am the wolf in wolf's fur.  

I want them to see me. In my true skin. And I like that they hide when they hear me. Because whether I harbour in caves and shiver in the cold winters, and have to hunt to fill my belly, I retain my pride. 

I have watched the humans. I have seen my images in ink on their skins. Me howling fiercely against a full moon, pine trees hovering in the background. I feel they do this when they want to feel brave, when they want others to look up to them or when they long to feel some belonging to a pack. 

And when they take it further, they tell tales of their kind turning into my kind, more lethal and fiery once every full moon, and when fully formed, wreaks havoc amongst them. 

That right there is respect. 

Something my cousin will never get from them. Familiarity does breed contempt as I also hear the phrases they throw him in. "Kicked like a dog". Hah! That would never be said of me. 

And most importantly, I always want these humans to shiver and scatter when they hear me howl. 

Because it is better to be feared than to be loved.

By Jeroen Bosch on Unsplash

Short Story

About the Creator

Gal Mux

Lover of all things reading & writing, 🥭 &

🍍salsas, 🍓 & vanilla ice cream, MJ & Beyoncé.

Nothing you learn is ever wasted - Berry Gordy

So learn everything you can.

Reach: [email protected]

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