I’m a washed up show dog; a Papillon by breed and until recently I was a male, now I’m an it. They said taking away my manhood will make me a better house pet. I’m not yet sure what that is. I have lived in crates and have been hauled from one place to another to be made a spectacle of in front of a lot of people. I’ve been washed and combed so many times I lost count and now my owner says I need a forever home because even though the judges liked me I never won a big show. My owner has put me in the visiting room in our kennel barn a few times with strangers but they left and I stayed. I heard my owner say the chemistry wasn’t right. Today the stranger was different. He’s a tall skinny man and he picked me up the right way, supporting my legs against his chest. I licked his chin hello. He tasted a little funny but when I heard the pfsst of a can being opened on the long drive home I found out why. The liquid had a strong bitter smell instead of a sweet syrupy one. After a few of those he got silly. I was glad we were in the back seat. When we arrived at the place he called my new home there were two other Papillons for me to play with. They were allowed to bark so I did too. It had rained so we ran through the puddles and didn’t get scolded. I guess this is what being a pet is all about. I ran over to the man, stood up against his leg and barked my thanks for bringing me home and turning me into pet.
Written in response to Charli Mills prompt – long ride home