A ball of reeds and grasses hurtled through the air towards me. It passed over my head and, leaping into the air, I snatched at it, missing. I twisted around in the air to continue the chase, and caught it on my landing. Happiness pulsed through the core of my being as my master, the great and revered Odysseus, jogged towards me. I allowed him to pat my head in congratulations, but when he stopped I noticed that my hair where he had patted me felt wet and slightly matted. I looked about, only to see my beloved master lying on the ground in a pool of blood, staring ahead blankly…

I awoke with a start. The dung pile that had become my home smelled slightly
less rank today; perhaps things were looking up. I stood, padded over to the gates of my masters estate, and gazed in. I could see drunken, passed out, and hung over suitors through the window. I had to find some way to get them out of there. Not many still believed that Odysseus would ever return, but I was one of those who did, and I could not have him return to see his once glorious manor in such a sad state. I lowered my head to the ground with a mixed purpose of showing my shame and of sniffing out breakfast.

Odysseus, my master, had left to go and fight in Troy over twenty years ago. The war had long since ended, and still he had not returned. I neared the butchers shop. The back door was propped open just the tiniest bit, so that I could nudge it open with my nose. On the floor, I saw a most glorious sight. The butcher had been making sausages today, and there were scraps strewn about. There was even a full sausage link. I managed to pick up the sausage before the butcher came in and gave me a fair swat to the head with the back of his hand. As I left, whimpering with my tail between my legs, he continued to yell incoherently in a language that I had never been able to understand. Odysseus had spoken this language as well.

Two or three years after the war ended there had been no word to indicate my masters return and almost everyone had believed him to be dead. Believing that Odysseus was dead, the suitors had come in droves and taken over the house. I snapped out of my thoughts when I bumped into the fountain in the town square where Odysseus used to take me to play with the children by the fountain. All of these children were grown now, but as some of them passed and recognized me, they would give me a scratch behind the ears, and perhaps a treat. On this particular day I met one of my former playmates, who had nothing more to offer me than kind words. This was enough, and much more than I got at home.