Tale of Two Corgis

Chapter 1 (Part 1)

I STARED AT LAVENDER'S MUD-COVERED FUR, LAUGHING AS SHE TRIED TO GET IT OUT, TRYING TO RUB IT OFF ONTO THE PRISTINE WHITE CARPET. Her eyes sparkled, filled with happiness, as I yipped at her, nipping at her paws and dancing around her. Leaping to her feet, she woofed and started chasing her tail in happiness. My last thought was how hard the work of yipping and dancing was, as I drifted off to sleep... 

Jolting awake, I saw Lavender staring at me helplessly as the water rose and carried her away.  Gasping for breath, I lurched forward, struggling to get back to her and to stay alive at the same time. 

Panic filled my lungs. Air did not exist. Life was fading... my paws were numb... but I felt a strange  pulling sensation at my neck. I don't remember what happened. I couldn't remember... who was I? Where was I? Was this heaven? 

All I knew was that I was wet, alone, and stuck on one side of a river. I swear my reflection was on the other side, standing there... just like me... but then I made the mistake of blinking. My reflection was gone. I was still drenched, standing in a downpour, alone, forever. Forgotten. 

I smelled another dog on my pelt. I couldn't figure out how I was alive after the flood, but, here I was, completely alive. Alive. Without a clue about my life or anything that happened. Every night, the same dream: eyes staring across at me over a river, and then being gone. Like all my memories had been erased, except for that one. Shivering, I went back into my cave. It was a sorry excuse for a home, but it would work.

The strange smell and the eyes across the river haunted me. Everywhere I went, I found a piece of fur, something that smelled similar, or something that I thought would go with this strange dog. This strange dog, it was something that mattered to me. I had loved it. I had wanted to be with it all the time. It was my life.

And now look at me. I don't know what its gender is. I don't know what its name is. I know nothing about this... this piece of my soul. How was it related to me? How did I know it? What happened to it? Was it just my reflection, and places I'd been? And places I used to go? 

Life was a question. Everywhere I went, I was forced to think about this question. No matter what I did, it was there, asking itself over and over again. I was sick of it. I wanted to get a good night's sleep for once. Find food without thinking about how it must feel, separated from its soul. Its family. Its friends. Its entire life... ended... like mine was by the flood. 

The flood. That was the only thing that I knew was real. It was my only way to hold on to life. It was my way of crossing the River Styx. I needed to know the flood was real. I needed it to exist. To keep going. To wake up every day. To fall asleep every night knowing that tomorrow the world could end.

It was my driving force. The way I lived. The only thing I believed in was the flood. The flood- it held some importance to me. A life I had before was drowned in it. And I was the one that came up. My old self- gone. I came and replaced it. Whoever I was before, they knew so much more about me than I did.

I didn't know my own name. What I did. How I lived. The flood... it was a way of life. Drowning, to come up again as a new dog, to see the world in new ways. I didn't remember anything that happened before I came up and woke up on that soaking wet grass. I was scared. 

That was the one other thing I thought I could trust. Feelings. They were what helped me to think. Helped me to sort through my jumbled mess of a brain. I needed feelings. Feelings and the flood. Flood, then feelings, then I could exist and be somewhat alive. Otherwise, no. I would be helpless without feelings.

So I walked, stretching, yawning, feeling every bit of pain searing through my fading fur. It was how I saw myself: faded fur. That was all I ever saw. 

Pain. It was a feeling. I felt pain. All the time. I slept in awkward positions on the hard, stony ground of a cave. 

Sadness. It was a feeling. I felt sad. Sometimes. I would wake up every day, knowing I would probably never remember my past.

Anger. It was a feeling. I felt angry. Often. I would wake up sad, then be angry that I came up from the flood, and not my previous me. 

Happiness. It was a feeling. I felt happy. Never. I would live my life never knowing what happiness felt like.

Loneliness. It was a feeling. I felt lonely. Most of the time. I was constantly on my own, talking to myself, trying to feel like I had someone to lean on when I was sad.

Hunger. It was a feeling. I felt hungry. A lot of the time. I was always searching for food, never finding enough for myself. I would give up food if I saw a younger animal like me, alone, left behind in the world, trapped in their own flood, maybe, just maybe, they wished they never came up.

Feelings. They were feelings. I felt them, constantly changing, throughout the days. As the days passed, more became known to me. I felt more and more. I would never know some, some I knew constantly, some changed faster than the flood came, some were just out of my reach. Those ones I would know by the next day. 

It was new to me when I realized that I was not exactly alone. Birds filled the skies. Lizards scampered between rocks. Rabbits dashed in front of my nose, mocking my clumsiness. I guess I could call myself away from dogs. I knew nothing about them, but I was one. I knew nothing about what they did, but I was one. I had never seen one, not even my own reflection. I was alone in that sense. But I was not entirely alone.

I felt lighter when I realized this. There were other animals, just like me, fighting to survive. Fighting to bring their old selves back up from the flood. Fighting to see another day. Fighting. Fighting. Fighting. 

That was all we did. I hunted rabbits and lizards. Some birds hunted me. Birds hunted rabbits and lizards. Lizards and rabbits competed for the best green, growing food to eat. It was a war. Just. A. War. That was the meaning of life. 

Some rabbits tried to approach me. If I had eaten, they would be scared because they scented their dead brethren. If I hadn't, I would try to eat them. So they didn't really like to approach me. 

Thinking exhausted me. I yawned, looking at my paws. The ground wasn't right. I had walked a long way. I looked around. There was Little Hill. My home. In the distance, never for my paws to be near again. I turned back to where I had been going. 

Dashing off, sprinting as fast as I could, I knew exactly  what I was doing. I was finding me. This time, when I came up from the flood, I would know who I was. Where I was. Why I was there. I would know. 

And the mysterious dog that haunted my dreams would become known to me. By their name. 

I would remember. I would be something. I would be able to do things and know how to do them. I would be me.