Miss Under Stood
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Just last week he was going on about wanting to try something, but I haven't seen him do much of anything other than his weekly routine. He always comes home late, tie crooked before he pats my head. "Good girl," he says before walking to the bathroom. Humans are so odd like that, if only I could better understand their language.
He eats these tiny treats from rattling jars, popping them in his mouth by the handful. I bet they taste wonderful but I never get to try one, he'd scold me if I tried to again. Then my master heats up a meal for us both, a sole plate for himself at the table and my bowl beside his chair.
"Just the two of must," he chants before placing a slab of meat in my dish. Perhaps this "must" is what makes the steak so sweet, not that I mind, my master gives me two, three, four servings after scraping away his plate. I look at him with a quizzical expression before he mutters something along the lines of, "giving up on knife". He must not have done the dishes and ran out of silverware. Oh well, more for me.
Tonight he seems a little different though, since his hand doesn't touch my head. Instead he seems earnest on getting his own goodies, devouring them down to the last white capsule. He screams something about needing more hills; gosh my master is confusing sometimes. But I can't help but love him, even when he forgets to feed me tonight, forgoing our typical dinner for a long bath.
I hear the water running for a while as I curl up by the door to ignore the grumble of my stomach. By the time I'm awake it's to the sound of splashing and lots of talk about giving ducks; I smile at the thought.
Then the door slams open, nearly striking me against the wall. It's okay though, I can tell he's tired by the way he stumbles about the house, knocking books from the shelf and cracking the light bulb when the lamp gets caught in his way.
My nap is still working its way back into my system as I follow him into the bedroom. I'm not allowed on the bed because I got pushed off before but I enjoy listening to the dreams my master tells me in the midst of night. He always goes on about being prepared, I hope it's for this "right moment" he's been going off about.
Sleep weaves into my old bones as I curl up at the foot of his bed, watching him as he sets up. My tail slightly wags at the thought of tug-of-war but my brain does not control my body at this point. Eventually my eyes slip shut hoping he'll use the rope tomorrow to play with me. He never seems to want to anymore, but I don't mind. I'm just glad this time he got to fly.
I've learned after scrawling through my old submissions that, unless you're me, they typically don't make much sense and their meanings get lost along the way. Thus this story with conceived, first introduced to my mind when my brain became oxygen-deprived while swimming long sets (more like drowning but whatever). Then just recently after I began procrastinating my horror story essay (which I should be doing). The perspective should be obvious if not refer to my first sentence for more clarity.
Next I want to apologize about not posting anything, just been caught up in school work and the stress of not wanting to deal with things that can be easily avoided. Hope your Halloween was better than mine (although I did see a 4 year old clinging to me as a shark), and may your days be joyously superbly insane.