From: "Token -" Date: Tue, 28 Nov 2000 19:20:09 -0500 Subject: NEW:Pomeranian Ponderings: Queequeg Reflects(1/1) Source: xff TITLE: Pomeranian Ponderings: Queequeg Reflects AUTHOR: Token (token24601@aol.com) CATEGORY: Vignette, POV DISTRIBUTION: Gossamer, Ephemeral, have at it. You others can too, just drop me a line. It's gratifying RATING: PG-13. Dogs have little sense of decorum. SPOILERS: Lots of little ones, particularly for season eight. One big one for Moby_Dick, too. And one pathetic one for "Quagmire." SUMMARY: One dead dog's thoughts on recent events. DISCLAIMER: Queequeg isn't mine. If he was, I wouldn't have let him be eaten by a monster. I would have scratched his ears and taught him to fetch sticks. ACKNOWLAGEMENTS: Much heartfelt gratitude to EPurSeMove, Cofax, and Marasmus for their betas and ideas. Thanks for not being satisfied easily, I am humbled by your mad skills. And as always, YV without whom none of this would have (quite literally) been possible. Pomeranian Ponderings: Queequeg Reflects by Token token24601@aol.com http://www.grapefruithead.com/token -------------------------------------------------------- That ungrateful bastard. I'm glad he's gone. He never liked me. He never really liked her, either. He was never the dog I was. She should have known that. He was barely a member of the pack, but you could tell he wanted to be alpha. Not me. I knew my place, and that was in her lap. He couldn't be satisfied with that. He was always his own dog, never hers. I could smell that when I was alive, and see it now that I'm not. The stink of human self-absorption smells a lot like oranges. Most humans don't know that. Foxmulder smelled like a damn orchard. A harvest. I don't even think he noticed when I was trying to haunt him. He just filed away my yipping and biting along with all the other voices in his head. He never even noticed the spectral crap I took in his shoes. He tracks it everywhere, even now. Some things don't wash off. If he ever took a Kerlian photograph of himself, he'd see he was covered in ectoplasmic dogshit. I bet he'd probably be pleased, like as not. Scratchsratchscratch. Ahhh, better. Fleas have ghosts, too. I knew there was a reason I hated baths. Damn baths. He always liked it when she gave him one. The little kiss-ass bastard. He got them a lot more often than I did. Not that I'm jealous. Like I said, I hated baths. Looking back, I don't think he even ever knew he belonged to her. I could smell that too. It's easier for dogs; the order of the pack is something everyone just knows. She would bark and he would listen. I didn't mind so much then, although it bothered me a little that I slipped in the pecking order. He didn't even seem so bad at first. She didn't even need to use a leash when he was outside. She did inside, sometimes though. That always puzzled me. And the harness, like the lady down the street makes her cat wear. I always had to sleep on the couch during those times. They wouldn't let me in the bedroom. Then he got me eaten by a damned crocodile or alligator or whatever. It doesn't matter. I was still eaten. I minded that a lot. I took an informal poll around here. We've all got a lot of time. The concensus was being eaten alive was a suck way to die. He thought it was funny. Bastard. I talked to Hermanmelville's ghost awhile back about his book - I could never read when I was alive, but the rules are funny here. She always loved his book, and I can see why. It's amazing. My namesake was a badass. Like me, he was in tune with the universe. He just wanted to sell his heads like I'd bury my bones. He died because of Ahab too. They all did. Why doesn't she see that? Because he's her human. You just can't act like that when someone belongs to you. You can't. There are things you just don't do. Sure, you might eat your human's corpse to survive, but who wouldn't? Misseslowe always took real good care of me, and she would have wanted me to eat. Good ol' Misseslowe. I miss her. She was delicious. She didn't mind being eaten, either. I asked her. Hermanmelville says that my namesake in his big book liked to eat people too. He says that's why she maybe named me what she did. He seems to think it's funny. Humans are weird. Agentscully treated me real nice. Better than she treated him. She never scratched his head, or let him finish her cereal milk, or anything. Sure, they would wrestle around on the carpet sometimes, but that's just what big dogs do with each other. Especially when she was in heat. She never noticed me then, despite my best efforts. I would have taken care of my puppies. Not like him. I should have bitten him while I still had teeth. Now she's got Agentdoggett. He's got his own pack, at least. That's something. Maybe she can be part of his pack now. Agentdoggett doesn't care about her either, but at least he smells loyal. Like his namesake, the noble dog. Not like a fox. Foxes will sneak into your barn and steal your chickens. I used to dream of this, when I dreamed. Foxes will take everything you have and more, leaving you to die. They're prettier than most dogs, but they'll rob you blind just the same. Foxes suck. Dogs hunt foxes. I used to dream of that, too. I'd catch it, and tear it apart with my teeth. The smell of blood burned red hot in my nose. I would twitch with excitement. I think She thought it was cute, watching me do that. She loved me. I was her dog. I got scratched about the ears. Agentdoggett has been marking Foxmulder's old territory. That's a start. Agentscully deserves a devoted human. Maybe her new dog really will find foxmulder. Maybe he'll rip out his jugular with his teeth when he finds him. I sure hope so. Maybe if he helps raise Foxmulder's puppy things will be better. I told Hermanmelville and Seeheshemspender and Johnroche and they said they'd hold him down while I crapped on him. I can't hardly wait. I might have to, though. There's a pretty big line up here to see him. He's very popular.