Let them be as dogs,
always safe, watered, fed, adored,
but harnessed by a leash held in one's hand.
I'd rather be a dark-furred wolf,
howling in song and in rage at the moon, constantly wandering the earth with my pack-mates.
To live in a place with no rules or boundaries, to be alive inside and out. To be exposed to the night calls of owls, the crunching of leaves underneath my paws as I hunt. To be as a shadow in the darkness, with only gleaming gold eyes to tell my prey that I was near.
I'd rather be scrawny and hungry, and if then feared by another kind, than to be fenced in by walls and restrictions, and fake-smiling faces always scratching my head. And tugging on my tail. And riding me around the house like a horse.
I'd rather smell of drenched leaves and soot stench than of dry, fake rosemary seeping into my fur. If I could stand alone or with a pack, strong and free, I'd rather be a howling soprano, a wolf to you, in the dark of the night.