Dogs of Orninica

by Unedo, Daniel

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE - Professor of Antiquities I

  CHAPTER TWO - Anonymous Revolutionary I

  CHAPTER THREE - Actor I

  CHAPTER FOUR - Grand Bishop I

  CHAPTER FIVE - Journalist I

  CHAPTER SIX - Student I

  CHAPTER SEVEN - Politician

  CHAPTER EIGHT - Spy I

  CHAPTER NINE - Doctor

  CHAPTER TEN - Mother

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - Radio Personality I

  CHAPTER TWELVE - Banker

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Senior Citizen I

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Anonymous Revolutionary II

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN - General

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Child

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Professor of Antiquities II

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - Actor II

  CHAPTER NINETEEN - Grand Bishop II

  CHAPTER TWENTY - Police Officer

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - Judge I

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - Soldier I

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - Journalist II

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - Spy II

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - Senior Citizen II

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - Judge II

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - Radio Personality II

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - Astronaut

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - Journalist III

  CHAPTER THIRTY - Student II

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - Senior Citizen III

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - Professor of Antiquities III

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - Spy III

  EPILOGUE

  Dogs of Orninica

  by Daniel Unedo

  Copyright © 2013

  All rights reserved.

  PROLOGUE

  The following book is a collection of correspondences from every corner of Orninican society; some public and some private. The accounts cover the three-month period leading up to the historical find that would change the lives of the dogs of Orninica forever.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Professor of Antiquities

  Monumental new developments in the world of archeology this week. Brace yourselves friends of history, these events will pave the way for the next golden era of prosperity Orninica will undoubtedly soon approach.

  Dr. Spot Merrel, world famous for finally cracking the intricate human language, has delved into ancient texts newly unearthed by our team of skilled diggers and revealed that a pedigree human female from a small rainy island was due to give birth at the time these texts were published.

  My close colleague has revealed that the child was apparently of extreme importance to our human masters, as endless literature was disseminated discussing every aspect of his impending arrival. From what my esteemed colleague can decipher, every human living on this island proudly contributed a portion of their earnings to the pedigree family's immense wealth.

  Due to these revolutionary new findings, the President has announced that after an exhaustive search, all citizens of Orninica will now direct a percentage of their gross earnings to Mr. and Mrs. Fifi, the wealthiest Corgis in the country. We have been advised to speculate as idly as possible about any new pups they may spawn for at least three hours daily, and six hours on Sundays, as seems to have been the human custom on ancient earth. The new Corgi tax was, of course, devised to replace the controversial tree marking tax that had religious groups in an uproar all over the country.

  I'm very pleased with the President's judicious decision. The more advances we make towards connecting with our departed human masters by further embracing their fascinating customs, the more prosperous our civilization will ultimately become as it matures. And with the space program's recent thrilling announcement that our rockets are finally setting out to reach the last drifting satellites the humans left behind, it's truly an exhilarating period in our history. Any day now, we could finally learn why man took to space and left us behind.

  It might be difficult for us to fully understand the intent of some of the customs our human predecessors practiced, but it's important to remember that they were far more advanced than us in every conceivable way. It would be incredibly foolish, and perhaps even dangerous to disregard the lessons they have left for us in the ruins of their great civilization. Everything they did, they did for undoubtedly learned reasons, and we must not ever lose sight of that. By upholding their traditions, we honor our departed masters and keep their great vision for society alive.

  Due to our latest groundbreaking discoveries, the government has rewarded the university with just enough funding for us to begin excavating ten new sites immediately. I'm giddy at the thought of all the ancient wonders we'll discover! I am truly fortunate to be a student of history in this time and place, and can't wait to share the amazing discoveries we make with all of you.

  Over the past two-thousand years, dog-kind has really come a long way. It's befuddling to imagine that just a short time ago, our forefathers were walking on all fours, scratching, moulting and drooling all over the floor. Incredible scientific innovations such as tongue antiperspirant and anti-moulting cream may have made us appear more civilized on a superficial level, but it is our culture's love of history and our fervent compulsion to approach the great wisdom and etiquette of our departed human masters that has made us truly genteel. Our connection to the ancient world is paramount to our state of being.

  As every third-grader knows, when the humans left the earth, a group of primitive dogs dug into a colossal factory and dragged enough sacks of kibble away to feed their hungry packs for several years. When the food began to run out, a sect of Cocker Spaniel thinkers decrypted the essential ingredients and undertook several experiments at growing kibble. Because of these efforts, every dog in the land soon had a sack of corn in his pantry and a tub of glyphosate sauce to dip it in. Without this knowledge, those primitive dogs would have starved, and the great Canidae erectus civilization would have never arisen from the rubble of the human world. It's saddening what Kibble Day has become. When was the last time your family woke up bright and early to cook up some homemade kibble to feed the poor? Instead we all spend the day lazing on the couch, watching sports and eating until it hurts.

  There was another major breakthrough this week. We've finally completed our comprehensive study of the stacks of plastic silver discs we’ve been discovering for hundreds of years at sites all over the world. We believe we can now safely confirm that these shiny discs were used by man as a type of body jewelery. The hole in the center of the disc would have fit his penis. It's probable that the jewelery was used as an anaphrodisiac; to curtail his arousal when in the company of upper-class females. This is further proof of the long-accepted concept that humans were true masters of restraint, exercising complete control over their physical urges. Truly enviable, and yet another example for us all to follow. I plan to formally request that the government commission a similar contraption for us to wear under our clothing in public places, and hope you will all support my petition.

  If every male in Orninica were required by law to wear one of these genital-discs, it would be sure to have a measured effect on society. Unwanted pregnancies, rape and sexually transmitted diseases would plummet. With our hormones under control, we wouldn't rush into marriage, leading to far fewer costly divorces down the road. Our every decision would be made purely by force of careful intellectual thought rather than the heat-driven mania that's known to come over even the most highly esteemed gentle-dog. Truly, we would be closer than ever to the ultimate ascendancy to the stars that our masters reached.

  After all, we're not impious Nureongis, we're Orninicans. And that still means something in my book. The impoverished Nureongi don’t seem to believe in anything, least of all history. They ha
ve no love in their hearts for the masters, no hope to one day join them in the stars. They only want to wander amongst the trees, naked as the day they were born, hunting and humping, hunting and humping, the same primitive routine on an unbroken loop day after day. Never growing. Never becoming anything more than the backwards savage beasts they've been since the day man left us. It's no wonder that they're miserably poor and hungry, living nomadically in decrepit little shanties and defecating on the ground like wild animals.

  Thank man we're better than the Nureongi. Blessed to live in this great nation in this great time, where history, science and learned culture guide our dreams of greater prosperity. Where we have endless opportunities to better ourselves and become great dogs of industry, finance, academia and the arts. Thank man for our good fortune to be born Orninican.

  Another important matter that I want to talk about, regarding the big golden arches we continue to unearth at ruins all over the world. I agree with the consensus that the mysterious arches are in fact an ancient spiritual symbol. For these magnificent golden arches to have been erected in every community all over the world, the symbol must have some great universal meaning that transcends divisions in religion, nationality and class.

  The arches appear quite similar to the known human letter 'M', so it is quite possible that they represent an abbreviation of some kind. 'Man' perhaps? ‘Moon’? ’Map’? ‘Magnificence’? I hope we one day discover exactly what it stands for, because it's been a most perplexing puzzle for far too long. If I could somehow go back in time and ask man one question, it would most probably be the meaning of the great golden arch. All the mysteries of the universe could be locked within these strange ancient wonders.

  Just imagine the possibilities if the old legends are true; a power so strong that every dog on earth is united in an overwhelming sensation of peace and clarity of thought. If only we could evolve to the point of understanding how to operate such a device. To have the knowledge to unlock a better tomorrow for all life on the planet. To reach the summit of civilized beings and stand up in the very clouds that our lost masters stood in so long ago.

  Truly, there is no mission more important or more relevant to the future of our species than the quest to explore the past in search of the treasure trove of knowledge left for us by our masters, in scattered fragments all over the world and in the greater solar system beyond it. I have no doubt we will eventually succeed in discovering the ultimate cosmic knowledge that allowed humanity to ascend to the stars, and join them in our rightful place at their sides. The only question is when.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Anonymous Revolutionary

  So it's actually happening, the President of Orninica just signed a decree to implement the Grand Bishop's crack-brained proposal to cut down every tree in the country to prevent us from following our 'ungodly' urges to piss on them. Apparently, replacing all lamp-posts with costly armed spotlighting drones that follow citizens around, illuminating the path and recording their every move wasn't enough for our piddle-possessed leaders.

  The trees will immediately be milled into sawdust and sold as hamster bedding; lest anyone get any ideas about taking one final wicked piss on a felled tree. The stumps will be salted to prevent regrowth. It'll take twenty-thousand logger-bots five months to complete the blasted project.

  There's no simpler pleasure in this life for a hardworking dog at the end of the day than emptying ones bladder on a beautiful and receptive Crimean linden. The trees need the nitrogen to grow and multiply, and we need the sweet release that comes with our instinctual territory marking ritual. But our all-knowing leaders, apparently not tempered by the steep profits the state amassed from the felonious tree marking tax devised last year, are taking away our last remaining natural freedom. You see compliant citizen, a free dog is a dangerous dog.

  The inanity of our broken civilization never fails to amaze me. Our journalists and public figures stubbornly refuse to call attention to the brain-sick notions of the bureaucratic tyrants that rule over us. Is it not sickening to anyone else that the news is almost entirely filled with celebrity chitchat, irrelevant manufactured spectacle and discussion of shiny new designer electronics that we are instructed to immediately purchase and plug into?

  Whenever I bring up my concerns here on the Internet, I'm labeled an extremist. An extremist! As if it's somehow extreme to want to live in a world where public policy follows some kind of logic. Where our government provides us with essential services to improve our quality of living, rather than an infinite list of laws, taxes and fines aimed at stifling our spirits and monetizing our sweat and blood.

  As blasphemous as it might seem, the idiocy of our political, religious and cultural institutions all stems from our mindless devotion to and emulation of the so called 'masters'. A long gone race of sociopathic fur-less apes that enslaved our ancestors for centuries.

  Despite the fairy tales drilled into our skulls by sleepy schoolteachers and feel-good fantasy movies, the humans were not omnipotent. I can't tell you why they left this world, but I can tell you we're certainly better off for it.

  The constant warring between our two major religious orders; The Holy Temple of Bahman and The Modern Church of Soupman, is testament to the fact that we'll never decide why the humans left. But constantly attempting to adopt their strange cultural practices in some kind of sick quest for godliness is only bringing us further and further from our inherent freedom-loving canine spirit, and closer to unimaginable devastation.

  The humans might have played some small part in our eventual evolving of greater intelligence, but there's no evidence that they did this deliberately. They could never have foreseen that stuffing their slave-dogs full of genetically modified cornmeal and soy, sprinkled with irradiated wheat germ (and boiled carrots) would have a lasting effect on our evolutionary biology.

  The humans own meals were so far removed from the natural diet enjoyed by their gorilla cousins that they had the same dependence as we do on 210kmph toilet flushes to carry their doo and the cocktail of poisons they poured over it to the nearest major water body. So to suggest that they were somehow consciously developing us to inherit 'their' planet is simply ridiculous. Their civilization was just as devoid of reason as our own. They departed earth with no expectation that primitive canines would ever rid themselves of their leashes. They stripped the planet of its resources and left us to starve.

  It's always been my theory that we developed into Canidae erectus because nature saw a void and filled it. We didn't learn to walk on two feet as some beggary parlor trick to entertain our masters as mythologized in one of the holy books; we learned to walk upright because our very survival depended on it.

  After being enslaved by the humans for far too long, we had entirely suppressed our instinctual hunting skills. Yes, hunt, kill, slaughter, butcher. Any logical mind can look in the mirror at the long sharp teeth before him and plainly see that we are strictly carnivorous! But, no. We continue to eat an unnatural chemical-laden corn-based diet, and when faced with the deadly cancers ravaging our population, we pretend disease is some great enigma.

  Alas, rather than relearn how to hunt for our sustenance as would have been logical, our forefathers set off a chain of human emulation that we're still too superstitious to break two-thousand plus years later. Once it was obvious the humans weren't coming back to fill their bowls, dog-kind embarked on the agrarian cabal that has kept us firmly clenched under the boots of petty tyrants and the irrational devout ever since.

  I'll admit, the agricultural revolution wasn't so bad at first, it might not have been natural or entirely logical, but our great grandparents lives were relatively fulfilled. But then, with every new generation, our governments got bigger, and the wealthy bankers and industrialists got wealthier, while the rest of us have been pushed closer and closer to the gutters of civilization.

  In olden times, you came out of the womb, and your parents taught you the ways of the world. They taught you what pla
nts to eat and what plants to avoid, they showed you how to assemble the tools you'd need to get along. Times changed, city-life took hold, and dogs moved further and further away from their roots in the land.

  My grandparents were born to the mountains as farmers, inheriting land to live off of from their parents, who inherited it before them. You entered adulthood with everything you needed to prosper; land, water, knowledge, shelter. That was all you could ask for and all you could need to live out your years blissfully.

  When my grandparents passed and my father inherited the land, he drove from the city up through the bumpy mountain tracks to inspect it for the first time in decades, declared it to be an overgrown mess in the middle of nowhere, and sold it to a golf course developer. The money lasted a few years, and then it was gone.

  Hundreds of years of history and culture sharply severed and replaced with something else. The dreams of the serious dogs in their tight suits and ties sitting at their big heavy desks in tall concrete towers, passing down all-important orders to the quivering underlings below. The cult of profit. The future of my generation and all that follow, sold away in exchange for some fluctuating numbers on a computer screen and an air of smug self-importance.

  When our fathers sold away our heritage to open their long gone bars and shoe stores, our ancient way of life living off the land, with the land, was replaced with something new. The grand capitalist dream of hard office-work signing heavy stacks of papers and moving numbers around, rewarded by ever-mounting debt to fuel the endless accumulation of things to fill their concrete castles. Finally we were approximating the culture of the all-knowing humans. Dog was closer than ever to his so-reverenced master.

  And then things began to fall apart.

  First the fragile ecosystems that sustained us began to crumble as these serious dogs bought up the land and covered it over with concrete and tar. The simple peasants that failed to make the move to the cities were now being told by their sophisticated brothers to pour yet more sterilizing chemicals onto their fields to reach higher yields. There's no profit in the old ways, they said.