It's a dog's life

This is my first post ever on Chambers, so I'm not exactly the most attentive in regards to following the rules. If I'm doing something wrong, please let me know.<br><br><br>Anyway, I'm old. My name is Rufus and I'm a Maltese. I'm 14 years old and my owner, not Master anymore, has creaky joints and white hair. I'm not as active as I used to be, but I like to remind myself of what used to be; in the fields, playing fetch, letting it all hang loose. I've lived 3 lives, at least I think so. But I remember 3, and all 3 are dear to me. They each end different, but the same way. Dead in a field, old and happy. <br><br><br>Once, I was a noble dog in the old country. I was called Wolf. I was fast and strong and got to hunt with the master, and chase the hounds, and go fishing and hunting. My master was a bad shot, but that made it all the more fun, seeing him laugh. I chased after the birds that escaped his shots, and would bring them back, dead, and drop them at his feet, and he'd laugh. <br><br>When I died, he was very sad. He buried me in his favorite tree, way up in the branches, where he said he could see me all the time and he'd never leave me. But he wasn't there when I died, we'd never left the forest. And I was too old to hunt with him anymore. But I'd always chased the birds away when he was sad or angry. When he'd cry, I'd lick his face, and when he'd rage, I'd chase the birds and stick my tongue out at them, and he'd laugh. But I got old. So I left. I left because I wanted to get away from the forest. It was too small, and I knew every path and tree and leaf, and I'd gotten bored, and sad. My master was sad too, I'd never seen such a strong man cry so hard. He followed me for a while, and I was old, and I was tired and weak, but I kept pushing on. I wanted to get away, so I kept walking. <br><br>But I was too old. I collapsed at the edge of a field and I closed my eyes. I dreamt of the forest, and the happy memories, and I died with the grass in my mouth and the wind in my fur. <br><br><br>Once, I was hobo dog. I was called Jazz. I rode with the men on the trains. I'd take scraps from the women and the kids, and the men would give me sips of booze. When I grew tired of it, I'd jump off the train at the next stop and start walking. I had no leash and I had no collar, and I had no master. I was free. I went wherever the wind went, and I had no home and I had no place to go. I slept under the bridges, and in the factories, and in the parks. I was a stray dog, and I was happy. <br><br>But I got old. So I left. I left because I grew tired. The trains weren't as fun, and the booze took too long to work, and I got tired of the cold. I saw a field and I wanted to go there. It looked like where I would be happy. So I went there, and I found a tree, and I laid down under it, and I closed my eyes. I dreamt of the trains and the grass and the wind in my fur, and I died. <br><br><br>But once, I was a house dog. I was called Rufus. And I was happy. I had a master, and I had a home, and I had food and I had fun. My master took me on walks and I got to play in the park, and chase balls and frisbees, and I got to sleep in bed, and I got to go swimming in the ocean. I went to dog parks and I made friends, and I chased after the balls and the frisbees, and I played fetch, and tug, and I was loved. I knew my master loved me, and I loved him. My master would feed me treats, and scratch my ears, and pet me in the park. We were happy, and I was happy with him. <br><br>And I'm old, and I'm tired. And I've been tired for a long time. And my master is sad. I can hear it. I hear her crying, and I know she's in pain. But she's not my master. She's not the one I grew up with. That one died, and so did the one before them. But my current one doesn't know. Doesn't know that the first one died in my arms, in our bed, and the two other ones died the same way. In my arms, in our bed. <br><br>My current master cries because she loves me, and I'm old, and I'm tired, and I'm in pain. But I know there's more. There's another life to be lived, and there's another master to have. And my current one doesn't know, but I'm happy. Because I'm ready to go. <br><br>But she's crying now, and she's in pain. But there's more. I can feel it. And I've lived 3 lives, and I know the feeling. And my master is sad, but should she be? She knows I'm tired, but she doesn't know I'm ready. <br><br>Because I'm ready. And I know. And my master knows. And she knows that I'm ready. But she doesn't know that she's not my master. At least not anymore. She's my owner, now. <br><br>I'm going to close my eyes. And I know what I'll see. I'll see the forest, and the trains, and the house. And I'll see the fields, and the tree, and the grass. And I'll dream. And I'll know that I'm happy. And I'll know that I'm ready. And I'll know that it's okay.