My Name is...Forgotten

Chapter One: Introduction

--

My name is not remembered by ethereal beings such as yourself. You may notice me every day, but constantly I am ignored. I receive as much attention as a pesky fly. Who am I? Well, certainly I'm your neighbor's dog, the pet of a relative, or that lost soul you pass daily on your way to work.

You may say that you are too busy to notice me and my plight, but I silently laugh in your face at this fact; it is simply not true. You do not want to notice me or acknowledge what I stand--or rather, sit--for. And still I exist, here to diminish every sense of your feeling of being a decent person.

You complain that you are too tired to take action. I am tired too. You object to putting yourself and your name in danger. I am always in danger. You believe that it is someone else's position to save me. I have no one else. You whine like I am asking too much of you. I'm not. You show cowardly actions in the face of morals. I cannot believe you.

To say that I am not your problem is entirely correct. I am not a problem that deserves nothing more than scorn and distasteful remarks. I am alive, just as you are. I see the world in a similar light. I struggle and I feel pain, the greatest of which is served by the ignorance of those like you.

I am not the same as you. I defend those I love and show loyalty. You do no such thing. Your loyalty was thrown away the first time you saw me and took no action. Your sense of defense is all but shattered. Still, I care for you, and that is why I tell you this. You have the power to help me break free of these chains and that abuse which binds me to a cruel hand. You have the power to change what I am. No longer would I have to live in a way not even fit for a--what is the saying, dog? That is what I am, isn't it?

Ah, I see that look of resentment you now throw my way. You don't like being ridiculed and attacked, do you? Well, you can consider that another thing we share, for I do not like it either. But you're still not convinced, are you?

We aren't that different, you and I. We were both small, defenseless creatures at birth. We relied on someone to take care of us. We grew; we saw the world through wondrous eyes, believing that it was a place filled with hope. Our difference are easy to pinpoint, however. You can now care for yourself; I cannot. You still see the world as a place of hope and amazement; I do not see it as more than a place of bitter disillusionment. Still, I hold out hope--hope that you will see my pain and do something to end it.

We aren't that different at all. I breathe. I cry. I long for. I smile. I love. I feel. I shiver. I bleed. I speak. I understand...but it is possible that you do not. You can never understand my pain unless you have experienced it yourself. You can never begin to comprehend what I have gone through until you have lived life in much the same way I have: confined, beaten, and unloved.

Still you act as if I am a crazy nuisance. Will nothing I do change your mind? Ah, no, please don't leave me yet. Before you make up your mind, allow me to embark on tales of woe and disappointment. These stories, all as real as you are, will explore the realms of your everyday Forgotten, as we are now referred to. The dog thrown from a car window, the cat viciously attacked, the boxer and her Labrador friend who were left for dead, and the touching tale of the German Shepherd who did not make it. You will listen? I'm glad, my friend, and I pray that I can change your mind.