The Priest's Dog

When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You promised that you'd never leave me, like what I have always done for you. Everyday, I always listen to you telling me stories about Jesus and his disciple friends. You'd always tuck the little book in your pocket and you'd read with me and always ask me even though I don't understand your language. You'd always scratch my belly and I'd sleep in your lap. I would always play with you and read with you, and you care for me and love and feed me. Then we'd sleep in your bed together.

Everyday, I woke up early in the morning and left you in your bed, because you were snoring and I know that you're having a good sleep. I ate breakfast with your dad and watched your mom clean the dishes. I waited for you to come out of the door as I trudged to the the living room and laid down on the cold floor. Then you came out and I bit your hand playfully, then we'd go to the field to play.

We grew up together and you became a priest. You preached in a church. I always go with you every time you go there. I loved you and I always watched you teach the people God's Word.

One day, I remembered waiting for you, inside the church, by the door. I watched as the leaves lazily fluttered down on the ground and listened to the little birds sing. I waited for you to come in but you never went in. You never appeared. I know your scent and your face, that warm smile and the sound of your footsteps. I waited for you in the church for years, and the people gave me food. Sometimes they don't. Sometimes they just pat me in the head. Sometimes they just ignore me, but either way, they were my friends. I found shelter by the church, but every morning I would go and stand by the place where you went in - where the long white robed men always walk in, with you behind them, your own elegant white robe rippling like waves in the sea.

Months passed. A new priest took over you. I never saw you again. . . but I know you would arrive soon. I cannot be absent when you finally arrive.

Sometimes I imagine the people as you - that you already came, that this is all a bad dream... or because I thought that it is someone else that has come to save me, care for me, and take me home. But it never happened. You never appeared. And so when I lay my head on the floor and listen to the soothing voices of the choir I imagine as angels, I murmur, "How could you?"

My eyes fluttered and I thought about you, my Beloved Master, who loved me and—I hoped—you never forgot about me. My thoughts wandered and my eyes fluttered shut, and I know that I'll be with you now - in heaven, where everything is a better place full of love and care.