What I Find Cute

And what you may, too.

From my house to my aunt’s house is a 20-second walk, short enough for Tiny (my favourite puppy) to follow me from one door to another without leaving his territory, outside which he gets mauled every single time on account of him being sweet and cute. You see, he is a stray who is yet to learn the ways of his world. A part of me thinks he simply refuses to.

My aunt’s house is a part of a cluster of five houses, which have among them a common shared lane. To make space for this lane, all houses have given in common service of access, a portion of their land. At the entrance of this colony of five houses, which once belonged to five brothers, is a gate. When I enter this gate, I am supposed to close it behind me, and not necessarily to keep someone from entering.

The other day, Tiny followed me on my usual walk from my house to my aunt’s and when I reached this colony gate, I closed the door behind myself and went in. Before long, I heard Tiny let out faint high pitched whimpers and scratch against the gate which shook lightly in its place. He was in distress, and was trying to follow me and be close to me again. Without stopping or turning around, I smiled to myself and thought it was cute. The smile, however, was cut short because out of nowhere, the universe put a thought in my head.

“Why did I find that cute?”

So, I put myself in his place, and imagined myself as a neglected child running behind someone I loved - a parent, a friend - only for them to close the door behind them, between them and me, and then relishing and finding cute the sorry image of me struggling behind a locked door to get to them.

So my smile faded away.