LEAVE YOUR FUTURE TO ME

LEAVE YOUR FUTURE TO ME by Sprout and Cathy D. Slaght


My human has had some kind of flu.

She's better, but we haven't been to the dog park even one time in over a week.

I am SO bored.

But I'm also familiar with Natural Law, so have been looking for the positive- found it today:

I AM TO BE THE BOSS OF THE WORLD

For one thing, I notice EVERYTHING.

Not humans. They just see what they want to see, which can be quite mundane.

AND- just because I notice things doesn't mean I automatically come to conclusions.

Like they usually do.

Even if I come to a conclusion, I am willing to change it.

Not them, most of the time.

Anyway, she disappeared for a while today, coming home with a National Enquirer, plus a treat for me.

Could have done without the Enquirer.

But there was a headline that had caught her eye- RFK JR CONFRONTS DADS KILLER

It seems the son finally figured out SIRHAN wasn't the one who killed his father.

Back then very few knew that 76 witnesses had seen SIRHAN standing in front of Kennedy, and yet the shots had come from behind.

The locusts- I mean media- didn't report it.

The jury never saw the evidence, either.

There were plenty of eyewitnesses, but back then news traveled slowly.

Now, it's the opposite. There's so much information flying around that it seems to be scrambling peoples' thoughts.

What a shame- THEIR thoughts are living forces. They came in equipped to create with them, but somehow don't understand.

Okay, it looks like the RFK thing is all she was interested in.

Now she's online, reading about some famous people who recently committed suicide.

What about veterans? Does she know, or care, about THAT suicide rate?

One every 64 seconds.

So, I stood up tall and let her know that I am now assuming the role of BOSS OF THE WORLD.

Humans have screwed it up.

She's not getting it.

“WHO has named you boss?” she's asking.

“ME” I reply. “That's what THEY DO , tell everybody they're the boss.

They like to wag their fingers at all of you, too, saying everything is your fault. The latest-”All you women who couldn't vote correctly need to go to a psychiatrist.”

(I have a piercing bark, which will have to do.)

“Don't judge by appearances”, she's saying. It's just .1% of reality...

... and she's rolling up the Enquirer.

Rabies onset, possibly.

So, for now, on to my treat.

I'll be back.

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