By Day 3, I'd forgotten all about civilization and my domesticated life back in the city. The cars, the stale pee smell, my favorite Animal Planet shows - all that noise faded to the background. And in the silence, my true instincts began to emerge. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to my roots, back to the primal side of dogdom. I was returning to the wild.
My human laughed at me when I told her that. Laughed. Brother Dutch just groaned and started complaining about how dirty the wild is. But I swear, I felt something. Something that made me want to stalk prey, howl at the moon and build a den out of sticks and leaves (or whatever dens are made out of). Something that made me feel like more than just a little pug from San Francisco.
I felt mighty and whole. And kinda hungry.
So I asked my human for a snack. Why don't you just hunt something down and kill it? was all she said (while trying not to laugh). Uh, no killing for me, thanks. Just a snack please. And that's when it hit me: I really am a city pug. I wasn't born to hunt or kill or build stuff out of twigs. I was born to keep my human company and consume pre-killed edibles in the comfort of our urban home while watching Animal Planet on a great big TV. And I'm OK with that.
When I shared this revelation with my human, she just smiled and gave me a cow ear to munch on.
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