My Little Brother, Whiler
Now, my Mistress Wendy & Master Eric are perfect and wonderful in all things, and I would never doubt that their actions are anything but beyond reproach. However, there is one area of home life in which I can't help but feel- (O! Please forgive me, Sweet Masters, for my rude lack of faith!) - that they are -perhaps- dare I even think it?!- neglectful.
Not to me, of course. To me they are all generous and wise. But there is another little pup in my litter, to whom, I shudder to feel, they are less than munificent. My poor pack mate is named Whiler. As you can see by this photo he is a sad & sickly thing. He is mute, for starters. & He is not only quadriplegic, but completely & utterly paralyzed. He doesn't even smell like a dog any more. Worse of all, I have never seen him pee or poo, which leaves him no way to make his mark upon the world.
I have given my poor friend much thought & I have come to the inescapable conclusion that his illness is the direct result of malnourishment. My Master Eric & Mistress Wendy have gone so long without feeding Whiler that his mouth has grown shut, his teeth have fallen out, & his very bones have disappeared. He doesn't even have that thing for licking! What could cause such monstrous abnormalities save the perpetual, & unrelenting dearth of kibble which is my poor packmate's lot?!
I have tried to alert Mistress Wendy & Master Eric to Whiler's plight repeatedly. After every sweet & wonderful supper which they are so benevolent to bestow on me, I pick up Whiler by the scruff of the neck, & carry him through the house, whimpering. Desperately I try to win the attention of my Gracious Keepers, but they merely smile at me, pat my head & say, "Good boy! Have you brought me a toy?" At which point they tear poor, famished Whiler from my jaws, shake him by his hind legs & toss him cruelly across the room!!! "Go get it, Boy!" they call to me, their voices ripe with playful joy! & get him I do, but not because I want to play!
How can I play when my friend is starving?! O how?! O how?!
Of course, there is nothing like a good game of Tug & Fetch. & Whiler may not be well, but at least he isn't getting any worse. & if Master Eric or Mistress Wendy want to play with me, I guess a strange, starving, quadriplegic puppy is as good a toy as any.
