Simba the fretful dog, his name like his existence is an oxymoron. He spends more time barking at the bones that he is to devour. He fights the cat over the bowl of milk and omena. He spends most of his time in the grass rolling around in it. He is 3 years old. That is like 15 human years; I think, I am not sure, I just make things up as I go along. Anyway, my point, he is old enough to know better.
I am not sure what’s worse; the fact that he is that old or that he is a German shepherd? A dog with that kind of pedigree is required to command attention and fearing a cat should be the last of his concerns.
Not my Simba. Look at him now, rolling on the grass wagging his tail, goodness he enjoys it so much. He coughs out fur balls? When did dogs start behaving like that? At times I feel like Simba is a cat in a dog’s body. He is needy and loyalty is only to his bowl of milk. But there are moments when he is this adorable dog. Wagging his tale running after balls, barking at things it fears or detests or doesn’t understand.
I called him Simba for the fun of it to be honest. Growing up in this part of Africa, one common thing you will hear is a dog called Simba, I guess to feed the dog with a decent self esteem. Ferocity is what people need dogs for; so make his existence the epitome of ferocity and dominion of the home, since most people only see dogs as guard dogs and not pets. Call him, (say it in James Earl Jones’ voice) SIIIIIIIIIIIIMMMMMMMMBBBBBBBAAA! (Cue lion roar!) Another oxymoron, name a dog after a cat. Why not name him after an animal from the dog family…like Hyena…well…
Simba! He’s just choked on the butterfly he was playing with. Oh! There he goes; I forgot to mention he also fights the chicken for food. It is pretty hilarious; he has grown up with some of them so they peck at him when he imposes. Like right now, now he’s busy whimpering from pain. He knows better than to paw at them. He walks away when that happens. He never really has much to do. Being an animal is pretty boring especially a pet.
You wait to be fed, you might be bathed once every couple of months if at all, you see a vet on occasion, you eat, you poop and then you die. It is kind of depressing. But then again when you are my prancy princess Simba, you take it all in stride.
Here comes Gloria, the cow, with her usual violent streaks, I better stop writing this because Gloria is about to gore Simba from her little grassy knoll.