Counting Sheep

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


Picture-prompted.

Submitted: April 22, 2018

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Submitted: April 22, 2018

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Counting Sheep

Do dog’s dream, you ask?

Have you ever watched us? Our legs take us racing, chasing, as they twitch at an ever frantic rate until coming to a halt. Tails wag, jaws open and close on some kind of gastronomic delight.

And the sounds we make, from gentle barks to full-fledged growls. Lips draw back, show off our teeth, warning those sleep-gremlins to back off and to get away. Defensive and protective in my sleep, my dreams are very vivid.

Counting them up all of the time, making sure that not even one of my charges is missing.

I've never herded them, never seen one in real life, but I have heard the comments about how I look a bit more like a sheep than a dog. About how my coat is more like fleece than fur. I know that it is duty to protect them from the wolves, those that would like nothing more than to prey on them, snatch them away.

The thing is, I also have lupine leanings. They are my ancestors after all. Me, I’m domesticated, while they run free to howl at the moon and eat up the miles with their legs. I still have the genetic code of the wolf, buried somewhere, dormant. But could it wake up and work its way to the surface?

When I wake sometimes, there is one question that troubles me, that eats away at my mind.

Canis Lupus, they roam in packs. Canine companion, my family is my pack and there is a definite pecking order.

The question that bothers me, that nags away, so often in my thoughts – am I really a wolf in sheep’s clothing?


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