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Open letter to PETA from a dog

Posted by on February 4, 2019

Dear Most Important Person at PETA,
I am a five-year-old dog, reaching out to you because I believe my human is a murderess. This isn’t just a point of view, this is my unassailable conviction that she has killed my co-dog Olly. Since you are some sort of ethical people, I feel I ought to bring this to your notice before something terrible happens to me.
You see, less than a month ago, Olly wasn’t keeping too well, and the human wrapped him up in a red fleece blanket and then bringing him to me, asked me to say goodbye to him. I should have realized then that some suspicious activity was underway, but I have no previous experience with criminals and so I thought nothing of it.

An hour later, the housemaid took me downstairs to our building garden and what do you think I see? I see the human (perhaps ‘inhuman’ is a better way to describe her) burying something wrapped in a cottony white fabric inside a freshly dug pit in the garden. Some of the other family and extended family members were gathered around the pit and chanting something incomprehensible. I think it may well be a pagan prayer or maybe even a satanic one.

Once again, I did not give this strange ritual any importance because in my experience humans are always up to something strange. And quite frankly, if it doesn’t involve food, or people I like to keep our house secure from – a postman, an electrician, a plumber…then it does not really concern me.

It took me an entire day to realize that this Olly fellow wasn’t returning. I had heard the family members bring up the veterinary doctor’s name a few times earlier that day and I safely assumed that Olly had been kept at the hospital for the night. I also watched the human cry a few times but her tears disappeared as soon as her best friend walked into the house. I did wonder what she was so upset about – was it a vacation that had been denied to her? Had she gained a few pounds (I sure hoped she had, she eats all day long without so much as throwing a nibble of her fine food in my direction).

Anyway, the crying stopped as soon as the friend arrived. Her best friend has a proper job, unlike this woman I live with, and it was odd to see her sprawled over the couch for the rest of the day. I was fine with that so long as her visit put an end to the human’s waterworks, which quite frankly, were annoying and upsetting me all at once.

The two ladies spent most of their afternoon chatting while Bengal sweets were delivered at our doorstep by somebody’s driver.
One minute she was crying and the very next, both my human and her friend were stuffing their faces with sweetmeats. I believe there is a word for this sort of fluctuating behavior but I am too ‘woke’ to say it here.

The histrionics continued the following day again and I found my human weeping at least two more times. There was still no sign of our dog, my only friend in the whole world. Give it a break drama queen and bring Olly back, I wanted to say. I had already searched for him in every nook and cranny of the house more than a few times over by then. His food bowl was still lying around with that hideous kibble in it, god knows how he eats it.

The daft maids expected me to finish it up I suppose, but I am not a Lhasa like Olly, Shih Tzus are known to have refined taste buds. His leash was at home as well. HIs red blanket though had gone missing along with him. By the evening, the youngest child of the family who I adore was crying too. “It has hit her now,” I heard that heartless human say out aloud. I figured that this poor kid had been given a beating by her mother, what else can one expect of an unhinged person like her?

The other peculiar thing is that my human began to shower me with more love than she has done ever since I grew out of my puppy years. I am never invited to her bed, but on the third night, after Olly went missing, she carried me to her room and tucked me inside her blanket. I did not want to go missing like Olly, and so when she went away to complete her beauty regimen for the night, I fled from her bed. She called out my name a few times, but I did not return.

About four days after Olly’s disappearance I heard my human ask her children to come to his grave with her. That is when I knew that she had killed and buried him. Or maybe worse still, buried him alive. I was shattered to have lost my friend, my brother, my uncle – he was all of those things to me. He might have been my lover as well, but our big age gap and his castrated nether parts did not allow that to happen. She’s inhuman, I told you already.

As you can understand, I haven’t been the same ever since. Now that I know my Olly is never coming back, I feel cheated, bereft and alone. “Tiffany is so sad, she is so sad,” I hear the human lament to the only man in the house over a phone call. All of this she does to cover up her guilt. I doubt any of the family members know what Ms. Homicidal has been up to.

The other day she put her mother on a video call with me. Her mother, who is a kind soul, agreed that I looked forlorn and asked my human to pamper me. Keep your daughter away from me, I wanted to shout.

I avoid her as much as possible. In fact, the minute I see her walking towards me, I sprint in the opposite direction. My human has been complaining about my behavior to her staff and her children, but I am determined to stay away because I am determined to stay alive.

I would appreciate if you got her arrested and took suitable action for dog slaughter against her at the earliest.
Save me soon from the jaws of death.
Yours truly,

p.s: Am attaching a photo of Olly and me so you can identify the dog who needs rescuing. I am the fairer of the two.


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