Wanted

Rex lay on his side on the sun-warmed brick, tethered to the washing line. Wasn’t life good? he thought to himself, smiling happily with his long, pink lolling tongue hanging out. Yes, it was warm, a walk was imminent, and then there would be food, glorious food - and lots of it. The Enemy ambled by, her tail in the air swaying back and forth with feline superiority. She stopped, just out of reach of the now alert dog, and remarked with a sneer: ’How I pity you, you pathetic bag of bones, lying all day in the dirt while I am free to roam, to go, unfettered and free.’ Rex sat up, his dull brain calculating and rejecting the trajectory of a leap at the cat, but then in an a moment of rare clarity, a gift from Anubis perhaps, replied: ’It is BECAUSE they want you to go that they don't tie you up.’