Why--Else?

The brown-sugar and white Shetland Sheepdog looked over to the grass beyond the white picket fence bordering his master’s front yard.          

Can I go? He looked over at his master, who was mowing the lawn. His huge puppy dog eyes, and high-pitched bark, halting the man from his chore. Sighing hard, the man killed the motor. “What have I told you, Greek Mythology? I’m going to mow the lawn, and then we’ll go to PetSmart. I’ll get you the famous biscuits you love, right?”        

Waiting impatiently, the Shetland barked again. The master’s shoulders slumped.

“No!” He barked, and started the engine. “You ask again,” he called over the growling lawnmower, “and no biscuits!”

The dog whined, but the master headed past him, the lawnmower chewing up the grass.

“Chewing up the scenery!” Greek Mythology muttered bitterly under his breath. He turned around, saw the road ahead of him and looked back. Master was heading down a grassy hill and then was going to the right, right? He was in his own little world. Greek Mythology watched him disappear around the bend, entering even further past the very long shed owned in the backyard. Greek Mythology headed down the cut hill and then up to the sidewalk. He looked left. No cars. He looked right. No cars, either.

Greek dashed across the street. He looked back—master was gone, in his own little lawn mowing world. Probably thinking of cookies for himself, the Shetland thought. He turned. The glorious green grass pasture was before him! He ran towards it, jumping up over this white picket fence, soaring above the earth for a little bit and then coming down upon the soft earth. Oh, how soft and refreshing this green grass felt! He closed his eyes, and then looked around. He didn’t see anything. But he did hear a loud noise.   

The loud noise wound to a halt. Then it stopped.

“Greek!”

Greek Mythology’s blood froze. He slowly turned around. But it wasn’t Master!

“Get out of my sheep pasture, you dumb dog!”

The Shetland stayed right where he was. No! I’m not going to just obey whatever’s being told of me. Master never lets me go. I don’t cross anything but the foyer to get to my metal bowl. I don’t need to listen to everyone all the time.

Greek Mythology found a black one. Bah, Bah, Black Sheep… ran through his head. He remembered, as master and wife had a newborn who was laid to sleep to this song every single night. Shaking his head at the frustrating monotony of such a song, Greek Mythology barked at the black sheep. It gave an annoyed, maybe even sharp bleat, and returned to eating.        

“Hey,” the Shetland trotted up to him, “where is everybody?”

“Over there!” The Black sheep jabbed a hoof over at a huge flock over yonder. “I bet you even came here to ostracize me, too?” 

The Shetland shook his head. “No! I thought I’d just get away from my master who shelters me.” When the black sheep started to laugh, the Shetland said, “No, that’s not why I’m a…” Then he thought, and hung his head. “Yeah, go ahead! Bleat all you want. Besides, you’re a black sheep. You don’t belong, either.”

The black sheep stopped mocking him instantly.

After the black sheep, the Shetland Sheepdog looked around, noticing the flock but then returned to the black sheep. “Hey—sorry for bothering you. I just thought I’d…you know, I’m a little jealous of the dogs on leashes. Even if they are tied to someone, I’m tired of watching everyone else walk away from me. They all ask—”

“Who are they?” The black sheep asked, its mouth full of food.

“Oh—my neighbors. But—”

“Go find someone else to talk away to!”

Geez! The Shetland barked back at the black sheep, who just ignored him, and dashed off. I don’t belong anywhere. Suddenly, the Shetland found himself somewhere in a strange place—first, he was bound with a black bag over his head, thrust into a hard thing people around him cried was a dog crate and then he was dragged by a rope and a collar around his neck. Kicked in the back, the Shetland’s ears went back, and he shook violently, whining. The black bag off his face, he blinked up at something falling from the sky. Instantly, he pawed at his nose. Rain was attacking him. He hated rain—he wanted to get out of this cold place. He looked around. Buildings and homes of unusual size and numbers and staircases—unlike anything he’s ever seen—surrounded him.      

He shivered. Master—where’d you go?

Passersby splashed by, umbrellas over their heads. Their eyes were very narrow, and they didn’t speak English. Greek could see odd symbols on buildings. 

What in the world? He trekked around. Where am I? Greek Mythology whined when he saw an open door, hoping the friendly-looking person would give him a crust of bread or something sustainable, as his stomach ached. When the door slammed in front of him, the Shetland looked for any other dog out there. Maybe if it were another animal, so be it. He had to get back home (but not to master)!

Rounding around this depressingly blue and grey place, the Shetland puppy kept his head down, only looking up when he had gotten out of the rain. Once, he knocked into something. It growled, and Greek Mythology started spewing words of anger and confusion. 

“I’m not your home. I’m not your master.”

The dog came into the light from an overhead yellow circle he called a spotlight from someone’s house, and the Shetland backed away, eyes wide. “Where am I?”

“Japan.”

The Shetland’s blood froze. Japan? What was that?

“It’s a country. I’m from here!” The dog, the Shetland, looked a little like a Chocolate Lab. He asked what type of dog breed he was. “A Kai Ken.”

“A what?”

“Just accept it! Follow me.”

Greek Mythology kept quiet with this deep-voiced, large dog. He didn’t dare wonder whether the people around him were scared of the rain like he was or… He found himself entering a bustling city-town of wide-hatted women carrying straw baskets of vegetables, and loud cries from venders selling rice and chicken and fish. Bargainers tried winning over the best prices. The sea’s pungent smell hit Greek Mythology’s nose very hard, and he sneezed.

“Something bothering you?”  

“No!” A surge of boldness ripped from Greek Mythology’s mouth. The dog smiled proudly at him, lifting his head.

“Well, when you’re living the life of an alley dog, it doesn’t get any better!” The dog suddenly jumped up, snatching a piece of fish right from out of a man’s hand! Greek Mythology studied in awe. The Kai Ken smirked. After gulping it down, he pricked his ears.

“A train?”

“No—my stomach!”

A loud, obnoxious guffaw. “You hungry?”

Greek Mythology only longed for home.

“Hey,” the Kai Ken encouraged him, “If you need a paw, it’s right here!”

“Sure.” Greek Mythology tried sounding tough, but he only longed for home. Even if master was keeping him from running circles, Greek Mythology didn’t want the cold streets. He could even smell his favorite biscuits from PetSmart—

Greek caught himself imitating his master, and pulled himself out of his little world, telling Kai Ken he had a neglectful master.   

“Hey—home is where the heart is. I get it. But at least you have a home—even if your master neglects you.” He barked. “Hey—I’m extremely important to Japan. A national monument was donated in honor of my dog breed. I’m rare—”

“Quit boasting!” Greek Mythology cried. But he sensed the Kai Ken was envious of him—that’s why he was proud. He wanted what Greek Mythology had. But Greek didn’t understand how independence couldn’t beat being a domestic animal. Freedom was priceless.

Greek Mythology had wanted it, but not like this. Someone forced him here. He remembered how master told him never to cross the highway in front of their house. Well, he was locked up all day—

“Hey—” The Kai Ken dog was up ahead. “You coming?”

“Yes. Sorry—”

As the dog laughed heartily, promising he wouldn’t be so hard on him, Greek Mythology rolled his eyes. Then his eyes grew hard, and he ran faster. There any sheep I could herd? Or cows?

Greek Mythology stopped somewhere, gazing out at a pasture. Some women hummed to themselves, and then spoke to each other in a language that wasn’t English. Greek Mythology tipped his ears. He listened for a very long time, trying to imitate their words. Speaking softly to himself, Greek Mythology smiled, hearing himself say the words perfectly. He returned to the Kai Ken dog, elated.

“Hey, I learned—”

“Japanese.” The dog stated firmly.

“Yeah—” Greek Mythology wouldn’t let this dog dampen his spirits. “That!”

The dog snickered. “You don’t even know—”

“How to treat others! Jerk.” Greek Mythology dashed away. He could almost feel his pillow underneath him as the grass squashed underneath his paws. Barking, Greek Mythology rounded some sheep formerly grazing beyond some hills. Greek Mythology herded these and other sheep, days turning into seasons. Finally, he was chased away by complaining farmers. However, Greek Mythology spewed some words, them coming out in barks. The farmers’ laughter emitted from their mouths.

Greek barked in protest, but the men chuckled even more. He left.

Why is it so hard to find someone so dear to me? Greek Mythology abandoned all thoughts of returning to America. He almost wished he were left alone in the alley ways. But he went through Japan, looking for someone who could help him feel like the real sheepherding dog he was. Four seasons later, he went back to that Kai Ken dog. “Look what I can do!” Greek Mythology spoke in Japanese, repeating what he had said.

“If you’re not a mascot, beat it!” The dog spat in Japanese. Greek Mythology jogged off, determined to make a home here. Greek strived to steal, but the angry merchants and fishermen and shepherds pelted him with rocks or sticks, yelling in Japanese. Greek Mythology, laughing under his breath, dodged the stones and sticks.

Over time, he learned how to fend for himself against the Ken Kai dog. He would nip at him, causing fights, but Greek would just run circles around him. Soon, the strange, proud, almighty dog never showed up. He hoped he learned his lesson! Soon, Greek Mythology lay down, tears trickling down his nose.  

“Why doesn’t anyone love me?”

A couple of cats meowed, but the Shetland left. He heard how a boat was going from Japan to Scotland. He tried sneaking among the mighty throngs, but someone caught him. He jerked back, and barked excitedly—Scotland would be home! Someone would notice him at last. Greek Mythology hoped this new owner would understand.  

“He wants to go!”

“Then pay him onto the boat.”

Greek Mythology’s heart beat faster. Eyes sparkling with hope, he got picked up and put down aboard the boat. The dog’s tail did not stop wagging feverishly, nor did his rapid pant die down once since he left Japan. Once on Scottish soil, Greek Mythology danced and then bolted straight towards a huge herd of sheep, barking elatedly. He rounded those animals, but learned the sheepherder had another Shetland Sheepdog. But Greek Mythology didn’t dash off save herding other sheep, some coming into pasture from an oncoming storm. Greek Mythology barked, his eyes on an elderly man. This guy smiled, leading him into a thatched roofed hut. He gave him a bowl of water. In a small stone home, near a goat farm in the middle of a range of mountains, the elderly farmer, as Greek learned to understand, lived. He smiled but it was always sad, like he was about to cry. Greek remembered how he had been sad.  

“I was happy until my wife died.” The man said.

Greek Mythology panted, and walked gently up to him, resting his muzzle on the man’s thigh. He chuckled, and the smile faded into a frown. He lifted himself with his cane, using it to walking down many flights of stairs. Greek Mythology always went behind him, the days turning into months. When the dying man looked over at him, Greek Mythology looked up at his new master.       

“Go on!” The man cried. “You’re someone else’s master. Besides, I’m not going to be with you forever!”

Greek Mythology whined, and the man coughed, his raspy voice silent as he turned over towards the dog to pet him. Master was indifferent. Greek Mythology, long after the man was carried off to his casket, refused to leave the man’s grave. Suddenly, he found himself being carted in a black thing. It was very dark. Greek Mythology sat very still, breathing softly. Finally, he saw daylight.

“Greek Mythology!” 

A man’s arms were outspread, and he had a wide grin on his face. But Greek Mythology whined sadly. He trotted out of the bag, and away from master, who stood there, watching him trot parallel to the road. Greek refused to think about that trip to PetSmart, and instead, longed for the elderly man. He let the rain fall on him that night. Nothing mattered anymore.  

“Maybe I should’ve refused to leave the grave, no matter what. It shouldn’t be so hard to love your dog, even when they don’t always agree with you!”

Greek Mythology found a resting spot. The resting spot was where cars, he came to see, loved to hang out. They didn’t talk or anything, but he hoped he wasn’t gagged or dog-tied or rounded upon. He was a Shetland. He rounded sheep together! No one should bind him again. Greek Mythology spoke in Japanese to himself.

“Hey—I get it. You’re lonely, right?”

Greek jumped. He turned around, and almost went nose to nose with a very familiar dog!

That Kai Ken dog. He was here, in America? Greek thought he’d never see him again.

“Hey. I thought—”

“Let’s go.” The Kai Ken still had that direct, bossy nature, but he introduced himself as a name that meant ugly in Japanese. When Greek Mythology told him he wasn’t ugly, Minikui laughed loud and long. “Well, others would think you’re weird as you don’t herd sheep. Do you herd your master?”

“No—he’s always got a lawnmower or something to frighten me off. He didn’t care that I was gone. His grin only told me he was happy I wasn’t dead.”

“He seemed excited!” Minikui said he’ll change his name. But his tone wasn’t so proud. Greek Mythology gently asked whether he’d move here to America. “No—I’ll move somewhere else. I’m not a mascot—I only reign as one because I’m that type of dog. I don’t belong to Japan. It’s a little of a mystery. Hotels ban me. Pools clean me out. Gardens shoo me away. I’m not allowed to enter palaces, of course. I’m just a street dog. Besides, I never really wanted to be a high-and-mighty dog—just a regular dog. I’m a rare breed. I see other dogs get adopted. I’m just out on the streets.”

Greek Mythology never felt knew someone else out there could be so down about himself, either. He gave Minikui a soft departure, and they left, never seeing each other again. I mean, ever. Greek Mythology learned languages, herding sheep wherever he could. Being picked up by a Scottish farmer, Greek Mythology spent the rest of his life a sheepherding dog.

“Well, that’s him!”

Greek’s grave stared back at his master’s house. His daughter threw a bunch of dead flowers at it. “Why’d you get him?”

“Thought he’d be happy with biscuits. But,” the man blinked back tears. “He’s gone!”

The daughter shrugged. “Huh—guess the daughter’s the new Shetland Sheepdog!”

Years later, the daughter abused herself with drugs and alcohol. Horrible words streamed from her mouth as her parents hung their heads from shame. Guilt weighed them down.

“Bye!” She screamed, and slammed the door. “Get another Sheltie!”

The woman drove off. The man who owned Greek Mythology grabbed his head, shaking it voraciously. Then he went to the dog pound, buying a Black Lab—his daughter’s favorite dog. Gifting it to her one Christmas, the dog and his new master received a door slam. Nodding, the master returned home to a peeing and pooping puppy. The wife gave it away. The master separated from his wife after a horrific argument, and he rebought the puppy, claiming it as his own. One day, a knock on the door. The man answered it, but instead of slamming it in her face, he said, “I have her dog. Please—please don’t sell it again. She’s mine.”

“So the dog’s your daughter?” The woman said bitterly.

“Where’s our daughter?”

Master, reflecting on how he saw Greek Mythology somewhere with this odd, brown dog, said he’d like a fresh start. The daughter saw her parents reunite, but she got involved in horrible things, not wanting to discuss it. The master renamed Minikui something else that meant royalty, and Minikui humbled himself. The depressed, angry, irritated daughter and her father sat by the fireplace at their log cabin for a long time. The agitated mother and he sat by the fire a long time. Both chairs became empty. Then, when the family all lay in the grave years later, the eulogy was given. About Greek Mythology, and his master.  

Many, many people showed up, including the Scottish farmer, and Ouzoku (formerly Minikui) and even the farmer’s family. Ouzoku whined, lying down besides Greek Mythology’s grave. The farmer spoke to Greek Mythology, hoping he was happy in doggy heaven. Threw him flowers.

Some people wondered how the graves of Greek Mythology and master were side by side. 

Forever.