I have always been a dog at the end of a great table
And everyone at the table is eating a feast.
Some eat & eat & eat,
while others peck here and there.
Some won't eat
because they're too busy talking and laughing.
And some are visibly eager
for the feast to end.
"I wish they had better food instead of this slop"
one says.
Another has found a hair & a bone in their food.
"Gross"
they continue to hesitantly eat around it.
Every once in a while someone will hand me a scrap
just so I know what it tastes like.
So I know what I'm missing out on.
"One day you'll be up here. Hell,
sometimes I wish I didn't have to eat all this junk.
But you get used to it, like we all do."
I take their word for it.
And then I'm sitting at the table.
But I'm still a dog.
I've been dressed up like a person,
& trained to present myself like a person.
But I'm still a dog,
sitting in front of people my age.
The people my age begin to feast.
It seems like they know which foods to eat slowly
because it's too hot or cold.
They could tell which food had bones & seeds
that needed to be removed.
They knew when to take breaks from eating
to spare themselves from tummy aches.
And Most Importantly
they begin to talk amongst themselves
& start to build connections
& an order of who would lead these conversations.
And I'm still a dog.
I start to eat from the plate in front of me
and immediately throw it all back up.
I had eaten too much.
I didn't know.
Embarrassed, I stop eating
& just watch the eaters around me.
I study the way they eat,
the way they talk,
the way they smile & look around.
I want to copy what I see.
I try talking to the ones sitting next to me,
and they respond with kindness.
But they could tell that I was just pretending.
They knew I was still a dog.
I keep studying
and I become decent at talking.
My brothers are very skilled eaters
almost like it's just natural to them.
I frequently compare myself.
"Why can't I eat & talk like them?"
I'd ask myself this, completely forgetting
that I'm still a dog.
"All in good time, you just have to keep growing up."
They tell me this, knowing fully well
that I'm just a dog,
and for some reason refusing to acknowledge that.
I keep eating
& keep throwing up,
because no matter how much I study those around me
I am still a dog
sitting at a table
with a feast for people.
But the table is the only one seen
for miles in every direction.
Dad and Mom say that once you leave the table
you can never return.
So, I have to eat by the rules
and stay until the end
or else I'm wasting the opportunity Given to me
by the Large Man at the end of the table
who is the most important person to ever exist.
"If you eat enough,
and eat correctly,
you get to sit by Him
& talk to Him
& that should make you love sitting at this table."
Sure, the food is delicious
and the people are kind.
But I'm still a dog,
regurgitating all the food I try to eat,
because this feast wasn't meant for me.
I didn't notice before, but there are other dogs roaming about.
They're not allowed to sit at the table
and eat the feast,
and we pity them.
I pity
other dogs
for not having the chance to eat the food
that I can't keep down.
And the people around me watch
as I keep regurgitating my food,
and they say
"It happens to the best of us,
let me know if you need anything."
I need to leave this table.
But if there really is no other table out there,
I guess I can stick it out
& try to eat people food.
Even though I am a dog.
I hate it here