Dogs of Orninica (11 page)

The problem with the homeless is that they're too uppity. They're not satisfied with anything we give them. Here's an idea; when we gather up all the rich folks' refuse, instead of sending it over to the landfill, how about we send it over to the homeless shelters so they can pick through it first. And if they don't want to eat out of the garbage, then they shouldn't bloody well be homeless in the first place, should they? There's gotta be some first class leftovers to eat in the trash cans of the rich.

We can let them eat the garbage for a while, so they get used to it and begin to trust it, and then after a couple months, we can sprinkle some cat poison in each trashcan and take care of the homeless problem once and for all, freeing up funding to be spent on more useful enterprises.

Like for instance, we could double up on our drones, even replace all the old useless rubber-bullet models with the new elite assault-bots with the mounted missile launchers. Double the checkpoints too. A lot of times, I drive eight or nine blocks without going through a checkpoint, how is that enough coverage to stop a terrorist? Security is always prime. We could triple our nuke-arsenal, just in case any of our allies in the OOWD get out of line again with their pain-in-the-neck austerity protests. We can also always help out our invaluable corporations with some much-needed funds to further expand their operations. After security, the fluidity of the market must always be paramount.

Another idea I have that would be really good for the country is creating a new tax to fund buying boats for retired seniors that have earned it. Sort of a reward for our tireless years of service in the military and as taxpayers. It would be a good way to stimulate the economy, since we'd need to buy drinks and food every time we go boating, and we could sell any excess fish we catch to restaurants.

I always wanted to grow up to be a fisherman when I was a pup, but there wasn't much profit in it. You've got to act like a grown up when it comes down to it and let go of the dopey dreams you made when you were still a naive little git. So when I got out of the army and got married, I got a real job. But I would be really proud if the government gave me a little fishing boat for being such a fine upstanding Orninican all these years. Ask anyone and they'll tell you I've earned it.

Now that we're most likely going to war with those ignorant yellow mongrels, I'm thinking a lot of dirt-cheap labor is about to flood into Orninica. Now, everyone knows I'm no friend of dirty immigrants, but the one exception I'll make is when it's a housekeeper / nurse. I figure I'll finally be able to afford one once the yellows flee their burning crater-filled lands with their tails between their legs and come running to civilization.

If you're paying them next to nothing, it's not like they're taking jobs from Orninicans anyway. It's basically charity. But I tell you, if I get one of them working for me, I'm gonna make sure she scrubs herself clean three times a day. I'm not having some hoodoo savage stinking up my house. And she'll eat what I give her to eat and nothing more. Don't need her dragging some rotting vermin she trapped through the kitchen and pushing it into my oven. She'll learn to be civilized or I'll cast her back onto the street with the rest of the trash. Put my pop's old branding iron to use and brand her lazy thieving whore face so no one else gives her work.

Actually, since yellows are a lesser species, I have to assume they're not protected by any of the laws that govern us. So it should be perfectly legal to put them down if they're found to be unfit. Won't have to pay them either in that case, so maybe I'll get a butler and a chef too. I've surely earned it, working my balls off for thirty years and paying my taxes. Never even missed a single mortgage payment.

There's no doubt about it, the government should be giving all senior war veterans an Ongi slave girl or three, and a good-sized fishing boat. Especially those of us without wives to clean for us, and perform their bedroom duties. Seniors have needs too, damn it.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm perfectly capable of going out and meeting a nice classy Orninican lady. But then they all have this big list of expectations. They want you to pay for dinner, they expect you to dance even when your bunions are acting up, to flatter them even when they get old and lose their looks. They want you to talk to them and act like you care about their useless day. And if I lose my temper because she's babbling on for twenty minutes about complete nonsense, and I give her a little smack with the back of my hand, she gets all out of sorts and calls the cops. Makes a big deal out of it for no good reason, bawling her eyes out, and makes me out to be some kind of criminal in front of the law. It's humiliating.

No thank you, I've had enough of your entitled princesses with their fancy clothes and impossible expectations. I need a female that won't talk back, that can't even speak the language. Just cleans and cooks and pleases me in all the ways a proper wife is meant to. Bring me one of those and I'll be a happy dog. I won't even care that much if she's a yellow, just so long as she works at being civilized and keeps her mouth shut.

Just yesterday, I was out front, watering my flower beds, and the prissy, fat single mother from next door pokes her head over the fence and asks me to keep an eye on her pup while she posts a letter down the street. Didn't even wait for a reply, just pushed the brat into my yard and trotted off. Apparently seniors have nothing better to do than babysit every little runt on the block. I watched the pup all right, watched him run right into the road. Got scraped a bit by a motorcycle, no big deal. But of course, he starts bawling and his mother comes running back and acts like it's my fault the dumb little crybaby ran into a motorcycle. It's natural selection, is all it is. You've got to let nature take care of the specimens with shit for brains so they don't end up polluting the gene pool.

She needs to face reality; anyone dumb enough to run out into traffic like that doesn't deserve to live, and I'm the only one with the balls to say it. That little leech is going to grow up to be yet another whiny, jobless, Progressive Conservative voting, welfare-mooching whore. It's much more practical to weed them out before they start to cost us money down the road. You know I'm right.

I did manage to kill two birds with one stone there, though. That bitch won't ever treat me like a free babysitting service again, and that pook always riding that damn noisy motorcycle up and down the street won't be riding anywhere ever again. Collided into a brick wall dodging that pup, he did. All I know is they'd better not expect the taxpayer to pick up the bill to fix that wall. It's bad enough we had to pay to scrape him off the road. Should make the pup's mother pay for the damage, she's responsible for the little turd. 

Anonymous Revolutionary II

I have just returned from the most incredible journey imaginable. The inspiring, beautiful things I saw during my travels to Nureongi will stay with me for the rest of my days. I am so utterly and profoundly moved by the wonders I have been witness to, all thanks to Mr. Harvey Fidelbrook; my benefactor and traveling companion in the breathtaking untamed wilderness that is Nureongi. I can't thank him enough for allowing me to be part of this amazing expedition with him.

We landed on a short and narrow little airstrip inside a clearing, surrounded by lush forest. When the three of us left the airplane, we were surrounded by a group of young maidens, each a representative of a different Nureongi tribe. They all wore on their heads a different decorative wreath, which acts as the insignia for their tribe. Like all Nureongi, they wore no other clothing. Their bare fur was inked with the juices from various plants and berries, forming intricate designs.

The young ladies welcomed each of us separately, apparently genuinely excited to make our acquaintance. They showed a lot of interest in my regrettably rather portly belly, rubbing and poking it with rousing curiosity and much laughter.

We were escorted by foot to a nearby campsite where some of the elders of each tribe awaited. They greeted us with open arms and invited us to sit in their circle and eat with them. Their celebratory feast featured an assortment of wild game and foraged herbs. They had even prepared some corn-mash for the more squeamish members of our party.

The elders spoke one at a time, and a young female acted as translator. They explained how their society is structured, with the tribes being completely autonomous, but meeting regularly to trade with each other. Everyone is welcome to move around freely, and it is strongly encouraged for dogs to marry outside of their tribe to strengthen the genetics of the population.

Sometimes, when dogs aren't happy with the policies of their tribe, they will leave and join a tribe that they feel better represents their personal needs. If such a tribe doesn't exist, then they are free to pick out some unused land and start their own tribe.

Trade is conducted using a barter system. A common market is set up once a week, where all the tribes trade with each other. The market value of each good is decided by basic principles of supply and demand. If something is highly sought after, the trading price increases.

Rather than each individual trading one-on-one, each tribe instead deposits the goods provided by all their members to the market's repository, and then receives from the market desired goods of equal value. The newly traded for goods are then distributed among the tribe depending on who needs each item most urgently.

Particular skills such as iron-working and pond-building are highly desired but in short supply, so skilled technicians are loaned out by their tribe to all the other tribes that need work done, in exchange for various goods and services.

The elders mentioned that our lovely young translator had lived with at least twenty different tribes at various times, as part of her intense training. She could speak an amazing eighteen languages fluently, including three non-Nureongi languages. Most Nureongi learn their trade by apprenticing with several skilled artisans for several years, while a few, particularly in pioneering fields, are self-taught.

It's common for a Nureongi to change vocations frequently, even into old age. One of the elders told me he was currently a carpenter's apprentice. At the ripe old age of 84! Said he just felt like a change from his previous line of work as a zip-line operator.

The arts are very important to the Nureongi. Artists are given free reign to create their works, but they are also expected to contribute food to the pot. In all the tribes, food always comes first. Once everyone has been fed, only then are creative pursuits followed. No one spends all their time doing just one thing, as even the most skilled technicians are expected to add some food to the pile. Generally, a sculptor will spend three days sculpting, and three days attaining food for the tribe. The seventh day is typically for rest and celebration.

Food is acquired in various ways. While most tribes prefer to focus on hunting and gathering, others have embraced small-scale agriculture. Gardening is widespread, especially pond gardens for producing fish and water vegetables at the same time. The fish feed the vegetables and the vegetables feed the fish, and both feed the tribe. It's all very fascinating and self-sustaining. As a lot of the tribes are nomadic, they maintain gardens in two separate locations and move between them depending on the season.

Small rafts made from palm fronds and bamboo are knotted together and floated in the ponds. Vegetables are planted directly onto the rafts, their roots reaching into the water below and absorbing nutrients as fast as they're released by the fish. Underwater plants are left for the fish, crustaceans and mollusks to feed on.

As for housing, each tribe has its preferred building materials. Some tribes bring their entire houses with them as they migrate for the winter. These unique designs are collapsible and lightweight and depending on the tribe, they can be made from bamboo, vines, sticks, leather, fabric, etc. Tribes that don't migrate need sturdier, more insulated structures, so they use a variety of different materials including mud, straw, manure and stone. But never logs, there seems to be a taboo against felling trees to build structures.

Spirituality is very important to a lot of the tribes, but it is seen as a deeply personal pursuit. There are no common places of worship, or regulations telling them how to worship. Instead, every Nureongi worships in his own way on his own terms, usually alone or with his immediate family while tending to their duties in the woodlands. They have no big wealthy organizations that claim to represent divinity incarnate on earth.

I was fascinated to hear that there is nothing even close to a police force or court system in Nureongi. The closest approximate they have are trusted old hermits that settle disputes between feuding dogs. As these hermits aren't members of any tribe, they can presumably be impartial when deciding how to solve a disagreement between two parties. Apparently, once the hermit has come to a decision, no bad blood remains and the issue is permanently resolved. The wisdom of the hermit is trusted implacably.

In a situation where a grave injustice has been committed, such as murder, it is always dealt with internally by the affected community. If he runs, the criminal is tracked and captured by his neighbors, and the elders decide the punishment. Usually it involves banishment at sea. The elders made sure to stress that serious crime like this is exceedingly rare; once or twice in a generation, and usually a crime of passion.

It's interesting that the only dogs that leave Nureongi have committed murder and been cast out. It explains a lot about our culture's depiction of Nureongi as vicious savages, since throughout the ages, we've only ever gotten to know the banished bad seeds that drift into our seas.

Before they enter into an apprenticeship in their teens, pups generally do as they please. They play and forage in the woods and fields, follow their parents around; watching and learning from them. They listen to storytellers and watch plays in the village square, they create and trade artworks and collect insects and rocks. Some of them start little gardens and ponds of their own, or help tend the family garden.