Opus, The Wonder Dog

* * *

Ladies and gentlemen,
If I may, if I may,
If I may have your attention,
unequivocally, unanimously
for but a moment.
I am afraid to say it, but
the rumors are terribly true.

Opus, the Wonder Dog, is gone.

As you may have already heard,
he departed not long ago, 
and it was not two hours hence,
when his trusty companions had found,
that he finally slipped away,
for greater things to chase.

Now I implore you, I beseech you, be still!

In anticipation of the great number of questions
which the world will surely present,
our dear Opus has elected to give us
a final prepared statement,
which reads as follows,
and I quote:

ARF

BARK

WOOF

was what my ancestors once told you,
when they first approached your fire-lit villages,
long, long ago, when the world's corners were as yet unknown,
and the creeping shadows threatened to pounce,
but perhaps what they had meant to say,
if their noble tongues could but form the words, was

Let's be friends.

It's a difficult world, and no dog is an island,
so my creators had told me from the beginning
when the grant funds were running low, and I needed to
sit up,
beg,
perform,
and amaze their benefactors so that they, and I, might continue to exist.

No dog is an island, and in this condition was I raised by Allure,
blessed manufacturer of Sprinklehead Jetboot Detergent,
Once-A-Day Toothfizz,
Warpstop Travel Stabilizers,
and Golgotha C-Class Interplanetary Warboats.

ARF

BARK

WOOF

was what my ancestors once told you,
when they first gathered by your side in the evening,
now sitting on the other side of the fire as your privileged protectors,
as they watched and smelled you cook for the benefit of your kind,
but perhaps what they meant to say was

I'm hungry.

Not only for meat or kibble,
but for life and all the wisdom
that can be chased out of its infinite holes.

I'm hungry.

And my hunger knows no bounds. 
I cannot be sated with the mere watching of life.
I need to chase it!
To chase, perchance to learn, 
perchance to be born anew in the knowledge that runs so deep
in the cold, wet rivers of life.

Yes, I'm hungry. And I am not ashamed to say it,
I have eaten many things I should have left alone.

When Project Dogstar was in its infancy,
I was there, beside my brothers and sisters,
now known to you all as the Wonder Dogs.
I took every scrap from the long arms that fed me,
And so, little by little, I was trained in the manner of their choice,
twisted and pulled into the creature they wanted,
until I fit perfectly into the cockpit they had built for me,
to drive the machine they had made me for,
to command a fleet that no-one had yet commanded,
to end a threat that no-one knew how to end.

ARF

BARK

WOOF

was what my ancestors once told you, when they first heard the wild beasts rustling outside,
all trying to find a way in so that they might take hold and devour your people,
so the howl was sounded and the dogs charged the darkness,
leaping headlong into danger for the sake of protecting their home and family,
but perhaps all they had meant to say was

I will defend you!

And on those ancestral days, as with our own, we have defended you.
Just as my forebears fought off all manner of monsters,
so the Wonder Dogs have fought off invaders of every kind,
and just as they have raised their hackles and snapped their teeth,
so we have raised our weapons and snapped our own terrible metal jaws,
to the risk and detriment of our own howling lives.
 
Unlike my ancestors, it wasn't lions that threatened, but Quillans.
Not wolves, but Hylacines.
Not bears, but the Veskul Fleet.
Not snakes, but the Oblivion Temple of Illumined Converts.

Such monsters do not scare off easily.

ARF

BARK

WOOF

was what my ancestors once told you, when the monsters were slain, or chased off
back into the shadows, into the unfathomable wilderness where such horrors come from,
when they wagged their tails, and skipped about your feet, proudly,
but perhaps what they meant to say was

See the good works I've done.
I am a good dog.

This they must have done in hopes of receiving something,
recognition or praise for their magnificent efforts,
perhaps a reward,
or perhaps only peace.

And maybe some of them, through the centuries, did find that peace, but it was a small number,
for the rest of us were now obligated to entertain you in your own boredom, for, you see,
we had brought you peace, 
and you did not know what to do with it.

Consequently we were required, once again, to
sit up,
beg,
perform,
and speak to the generations with tales of our magnificent battles,
regardless of whether or not it was what we wanted.
If you had asked us, we would have told you
we wanted peace.

ARF

BARK

WOOF

was what my ancestors once told you in the early morning,
after they had grown tired of your village,
tired of defending it, tired of performing for it, tired of taking scraps from it,
and so ran off into the distance, before you had yet risen from your beds,
but still you raised yourselves,
to see their proud silhouettes standing at the edge of reason,
who darted off, never to be seen again,
but perhaps what they meant to say, 
if their strong tongues could have formed the words, was exactly,

and no less than,

ARF, and BARK, and WOOF.

* * *

--by C. Casey Gardiner--