Post by Peter Watson-Wailes

She is Mother. She has lived for half a millennium.

She raised your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather. He was the first of The Pack. She was small and he was big, but she grew and became bigger and bigger until she towered over him. She taught him to Fetch. How to Shake a Paw. She showed him the pleasure that comes with tummy scratches when you Roll Over and you do it right because you are a Good Dog.


She opens the Cans of Dog-e-Yum. For centuries we have tried to understand the workings of the Great Shiny Thing and the Cans of Dog-e-Yum, but only Elven magic can open them.


Great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather saw her Puppy born, and had the honour to give it the First Lick. Puppy does not look like Pack or smell like pack but she is Pack too, because she is the puppy of Mother-Elf. We love Puppy because we of The Pack are Good Dogs and we love our Elves and they love us.

She lives so slowly that great-great-great-great-grandfather thought her ageless. Her coat of fire-red hair was so sleek it would shame the most elegant Irish setter in his youth. It never changed, never lost its glossy sheen through his life. It was still lustrous and rich and red when he went to the Land Where Good Dogs Go.

Great-grandfather had the honour to give the First Lick to Puppy's Puppy. This made naming hard, so now we call the first one Middle and the little one Little.


Mother is ancient beyond the reckoning of the mind of a dog. But even she now succumbs to time. I can see my pain in her eyes, feel the ache of her joints in mine.

Her kind do not die often. It's an honour to be by her side. I will look after her because she is Pack and I am a Good Dog.


There's cherry trees in the garden, where my many great-great-great-great-great-grandparents and many great-great-great-great-grandparents and man great-great-great-grandparents and many great-great-grandparents and many great-grandparents and many grandparents and my parents sleep.

It's how we travel to the Land Where Good Dogs Go.

I hope Elves sleep under the cherry trees and go to the Land Where Good Dogs Go too.


Little will look after you. She is coming back from "Oon-Verse-Tea" soon. She is grown now; just over a century old. You will be the First of your pack. Love her and be a Good Dog. She will be your Mother.

I will look after mine, until we sleep where the cherry trees grow.

Inspired by this writing prompt

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