[ WP ] Write the saddest story you can make from the perspective of an animal .

2078 – Experiment # 280-A: 
 
 Medial temporal lobe of a dog. Preserved 58 years through the nerve stimulation technique and analyzed by advanced AI neuro-translation system. “ # # # # ” indicate initial manual placement of unidentified concepts. 
 
 Status of Experiment – Pending 
 
 
 
 
 
 I ’ ve always liked “ people ”. They brought food, water, purpose, love. It seemed the only thing they wanted in return was my “ freedom ”, my ability to make “ choices ”. And what did I need freedom for? I didn ’ t even know what freedom was at the time, it wasn ’ t part of my life. 
 
 In my “ mind ” I had everything. I was surviving, I was happy. Well, honestly I was just content, however happiness did come later. During the first year of my life, excursions to receive a bath, trots around a wide indoor space and toys were all I had to relieve boredom. My siblings and mother were visible across a large space beyond metal mesh, but inaccessible. I had wished I had more “ time ” with them; I missed the days when we were all together. 
 
 Time didn ’ t care, so it passed. 
 
 With its passage I found myself with choices. The walls of my life spread wider apart and I no longer saw my mother or my siblings. The physical boundaries became white and flat, as opposed to metallic boxes that teased a different life; the worst part about those boxes, those cozy but boring prisons, was watching friends and siblings escape them in the hands of smiling people while I stayed. Trapped. 
 
 I used to think people were my only shot at something different, and viewed them as saviors and gods. I was right and wrong. My freedom came with their will, but my “ human religion ” began to slowly unravel. 
 
 The gods were all different, some I would only see once and others I would see daily. One day, a wrinkled god I had come to rely on for food stopped feeding me, he was replaced by another god with “ striking blue eyes set within a porcelain shell, guarded by red strands of fire ”. This was the day my life changed, and I became a “ monotheist ” with choices. 
 
 My first choice was to obey or not obey when the blue-eyed human spoke. The only consequence for disobeying was less, just less. I listened and prayed to my god in various ways, including rolling around, walking to where she pointed, fetching an object. Sometimes simply pretending I was dead was enough to appease her. My prayers would be met with gifts, extra food, massages, toys, oh so many amazing things. All of these gifts, everything she had done for me, it was all love. And I loved her back. She was everything to me and I had grown to appreciate my new life. I started to believe she was my mother. Her constant physical presence had removed the “ mysteriousness ” people had hidden themselves with, that unexplained absence walls had protected for so long. 
 
 I would ponder. Maybe she was different from the others? Perhaps she was a special god that had stepped down from lofty heights? I eventually stopped pondering because there was no point. This was it, this was my “ reality ” and I had accepted that changes will come. More questions and untested answers would do nothing except blur my reality. There was no reason for any of it, I was truly happy. 
 
 I still saw others during this period in my life. There were humans and non-humans like me, I would see them whenever she took me to this heavenly thing that let me keep running and running without end. Sometimes, she would leave me for a little while. I would move back and forth, side to side with a group of my fellow “ dogs ” in response to a click. Other times I was left alone or with a group and learned special prayers from different gods. 
 
 However, I spent many hours with my new mother, and with her I learned that the walls in my life were physical. The different realms weren ’ t otherworldly secrets I wasn ’ t worthy of, they were part of my world. These realms were fascinating and much different than the plain, white-walled and “ sunny ”, brick-walled areas I had been. One realm seemed to grant access to all of them. It was similar to the one with brick boundaries due to its acceptance of the sun. With the blue-eyed goddess, I could traverse the “ outside ” and enter other realms as long as I wore a special cord around my neck so she could guide me. There were no boundaries to direct my path in the outside, and I prayed for her wisdom. Another realm I encountered was actually a realm inside a realm, a “ Christopher Nolan ” kind of magic. Never had I seen my surroundings pass by me at such a speed, it was exhilarating. My tongue would speckle the smooth black walls with saliva, she would laugh and we would move together. 
 
 Overtime, the questions came back. I wished that I could “ speak ” like them, but I just barked. I wished that I could “ read ” like them, but I just couldn ’ t. I just wanted to know what was going on, the changes and choices were coming more rapidly. I was happy though, so I let it go. 
 
 One day, she stopped. One day, I no longer felt tugs at my cord. She no longer opened the realms or walked her own path for me to follow. 
 
 I panicked, but she was there. She was still there with her gentle eyes and enchanting smile which filled me with love. As the fear left I took a step, and she followed. I took many more steps, nudged doors with my nose, waited for moving realms to stop before I crossed concrete ground. I was deciding my fate. I started to feel like a person, it was “ blasphemous ”. 
 
 I was able to dodge obstacles and traverse the world even without clear boundaries. On many occasions I had to interpret different clicks my mother made, in order to change directions or retrieve something specific, but I was still in control. She allowed other people to pet me now and sometimes would remove the cord and let me run. Those were the best times in my life, moving through grassy plains and hills, the sun shining down as small and big people laughed and celebrated all around me. I was free. 
 
 I had come to realize that the humans weren ’ t gods; they were just a different kind of dog. Or a different kind of whatever a dog is. They just had more power and understood alien things, and were able to do more as a result. As time went on, I saw my mother less and less, and found myself traveling with and listening to strangers more and more. 
 
 More and more. More and more. 
 
 I started to get anxious, but then all was back to normal. For a little while. My mother spent many days with me, she took me to a realm I had not seen, and allowed me to sleep in the same realm that she slept in. I took my meal in the same realm she had hers, and it was only her, no one else, human or animal, was with us. Her hugs became longer, and left little patches of dampness against my neck. Our walks lasted for “ hours ” as opposed to “ minutes ”. 
 
 And then a large, white moving realm showed up and took us somewhere. 
 
 I met a very old man, with “ wispy white hair and cold dead eyes ”. He moved slowly, but was animated in his conversations with my mother. He began to click, and I listened. He went on walks with us. He held my cord. He gave me treats and massages, and I began to love him. 
 
 One day we all went to a loud place. I let the man walk alongside my mother as he held my cord. After we went into many smaller realms inside the big, noisy one we had gone to, I brought us back to the old man ’ s realm. My mother looked sad, her smile was gone. She embraced me for a long time, and then bent down in front of my eyes and moved her mouth. Three distinct movements. 
 
 I like to think she told me she loved me, as I never saw her again. 
 
 
 
 
 
 “ Okay enough, I am ending this ”, said Dr. Chezlic as he shut down the neuro-translator, its tendrils hastily retreating from the brain. 
 
 His friend of over twenty years didn ’ t know how to respond. They had worked on this machine for countless days, and had recently managed to obtain a properly preserved specimen after years of searching. A specimen whose cranial ridges and abnormalities have been preserved perfectly, all of the emotional and chemical spikes throughout its life recorded forever. The test that was just interrupted, the test that costs over $ 100,000 a second to run, was the first to have created a tangible, understandable memory line. The successful completion of this test was the climax of their work. 
 
 Dr. Lakovitch fell to his knees before his partner and put his hands up, as if asking a great diety for another chance at life. 
 
 “ Why. ” he asked, his voice low and without emotion, his friend ’ s irrationality had sent him into a partial stupor. 
 
 Dr. Chezlic turned, tears streaming down his face and globs of snot choking his response, “ because the damn dog is going to die and I don ’ t think I can handle it. ” 
 
 
 
 

