I: The Smell of Sadness

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The world is changed. I cannot remember when it changed or why, or how much, but I am certain it is changed.

I do know that Big Master no longer loves me. Or maybe he never did love me. But somewhere in my mind I can remember him tossing balls, scratching my tummy, slipping me meat-scraps under the table, so I believe he must have loved me. He does not do these things now. And sometimes he smells of things I do not understand, and I notice strange smells in his hair and his ears. But I do not understand them.

Small Master, who is no longer small, does not smell like a person always, and he often smells like blood. He smells like blood and animals and some smells I do not recognize. Sometimes he will smell like the ocean, or like the forest. But he does not smell like other dogs. That makes me happy. I believe I am the only dog.

He does not seem to pay attention to me as much anymore, if he ever did. I do not remember. A dog's memory is not very good. He sits on his bed sometimes and he stares, and I do not remember if he has always done this, but I can smell sadness on him. I know that this is not right. He is my Small Master and I do not want him to be sad. Sometimes I come to him and push my head under his hand, and he pets me, but I do not think he thinks about it. I do not think I help.

I think there is nothing I can do. This makes me very sad. I am a dog and I am not usually sad. But my Small Master makes me sad.

I wonder if it was always this way. A dog's memory is not very good, but I do not believe it was. I believe the world has changed. I believe the world has grown much sadder, and that makes me sad.