Even though to most I appear to be of good breeding, it has never bothered me until recently what the background of my partner was. I saw the good in everyone, and most of the time it seemed the ones from my level were all so damned pompous I couldn’t stand to be near them, so like others before me, I travelled to the seedier areas to find some good, honest, fun.
And there I found my tramp. My scruffy little puppy with big floppy ears, and you couldn’t help but love him. I took him in, cleaned him up, loved him, but one day he bit me and ran away.
I was left feeling dejected, hurt, alone. Why did he bite me? All I did was love him? And I still loved him.
One day he came back! And I loved him again. But his temper was worse and he bit me again and ran away.
He continued the back and forth and biting until we both realized we can’t do this. He kept hurting me and I kept waiting alone, crying, worrying if he’s in a street fight or locked in the pound. I worried sick about that puppy. But I don’t think he ever worried about me. So, even though he’s a full grown, handsome lil scruffy pup, he went alone, into the night, into the cold, from where he came, out of the warmth and security I so willingly gave him.
I know now to be loved by another of my kind, as it may be impossible for the tramp to ever truly love me.
To love is to be vulnerable, and a true survivor can never show weakness.
So even though I’ll move on, as pathetic as I am, I’ll always love the tramp, and worry about him, and leave him a warm bed and some food outside.