I saw your ad in the paper. I do have a job, as a night watchmen, for a jewelry store.
I know that look. It's difficult for you to try and see past the teeth and claws. It's not like it isn't anything I haven't seen before. Hell, I've dealt with this ever since-well, ever since someone besides my dad saw me.
To be fair, I wasn't very comforting to look at. My fur was pretty dirty. It's coarse and it had rained that day. There was mud everywhere, the kind that's slick when you step down, but it cakes all over the bottom of your shoes and anything else that it touches. It's nasty stuff. I was scared. So, I was trying to yell for my dad, but it's hard to talk around the teeth and I don't exactly have an inside voice. All they heard was roaring.
They tore the door off its hinges and came at me with torches. I don't know what they thought I'd do. So, I knocked some of them down and I ran. Running, that's another thing that doesn't look so normal when I do it. I run on all fours, push off with the back legs and bring them forward in front of my front paws to push off again. Lots of animals run that way. People don't, though. I try not to run much any more. I don't like getting shot at.
But, underneath all this, I'm not a bad guy, not really. I look like a monster, I know. I have seen my reflection a few times. So, I am aware that I look like every monster that comes out of the night to snatch women and eat children.
How many monsters do you know that have the complete works of Emily Dickinson memorized? I can't really recite Shakespeare, I don't have the diction for it, but I can read it. I like the comedies the best. I tried to read "Frankenstein" once, but I had to stop. It hits too close to home.
I like to listen to a lot of lullabyes. They remind me of this one lab assistant my dad had. She sang, I guess because she was nervous, but the music was so pretty that I liked to hear it. She wasn't a friend, exactly, but she wasn't as afraid of me as everyone else. She never poked me back into the corner of the cage with the handle of her broom screaming at me about being an abomination. There were at least two of them that did that.
Anyway, I'm sorry. I was just hoping that, maybe, you could look past all this and see that underneath, I'm not a monster, not really. I just-I was just hoping that maybe I'd finally found somewhere that I could find some shelter. What do you think? Could we try?
Created: Mar 12, 2014roswellgray Document Media