“Give it up ladies and gentlemen for yet another Oscar winning performance”.
At this point in time I would usually flex my front paws over crouching to give sort of a bow. After a while I would follow the ring master back stage, some people would think I go back stage to relax, rehydrate and get a few treats after a performance well done but the fact is that I go straight back to my cage. I nibble on some scraps and low quality dog food while bearing the stench of my pan of three week old water.
After the circus packs up for the day the ring master comes for me “come on you stupid dog, training time.” If he only knew how I feel, how tired I was, how my paws ache, how thirsty I’m because that water would make even a dog sick.
I’m drilled for hours trying to get my acts sharp, trying to be on my ‘A’ game for the next show. If I mess up it’s the switch, if I do well no switch, not even a treat. But what can I do when this is all I’ve ever known. Born in this circus, born to perform. After I return to my cage I try to rest as well as I can but with me being a dog how sound can I really sleep?
Another day another show. I’m up first so here I go. Stage one complete then stage two. And for the finally
(Entire crowd “ohhh!!”)
Oh no! I didn’t stick the landing. But as much as I’m whimpering over my twisted paw I’m more afraid of what he will do to me once I’m off stage. I close my eyes as I’m lifted and brought back to the stables. The vet takes a look but the obvious is that I can never perform again. When the vet utter the words I started so shiver as I could have sworn I was going to be hit, but he just looks into my eyes as I’m being bandaged up.
“Broken tool, and you were so good, Is Sammy ready to take stage?”
“Well yeah, not sure how he will respond to the crowd but he will perform, I’ll make sure”.
I woke up the next morning in a box not my usual cage, and when I ruffled and finally turned it over I’m where the circus used to be, well at least I think, all the scents are here but there’s no one around. I make a slow whimper as I hop out. Now I realise what he meant by broken tool. Guess my life as the Oscar is over. He said Sammy, well I guess he will be the next Oscar, what will happen to me now?
Oh well I’m going back to sleep, if I had tears I would cry not because I was tossed aside but the only time I saw love was when the crowd cheered. My life is almost over anyway I’m a fully grown chihuahua and who would want a beady eyed mutt in a party hat anyway.
It looks like the rain is about to fall. When I wake I’ll find somewhere better to sleep and probably raid some trash, heh time to start my new life.
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