I, Black Dog

I am black dog. I patrol carpark at Papapapai Falls. I wait for you in hire car. I follow you, silent, head down, tail still.

You keep distance. You don’t talk to me, pat me, or make eye contact. You don’t want me here. You came to see waterfall. Not black dog.

I don’t bark.  I don’t bother you. I was here first. Dawn till dusk, Monday to Sunday. You stay only long enough for photos.

I don’t whimper. I don’t beg. I don’t leave mess.  But I’m hungry. I want food. Sausage, meat, muesli bars. Anything.

Ignore the waterfall. Ignore the view. Take notice of black dog.

You want me go away. You think I stray. I always here, in same spot. How can I be stray?

You’re the stray. You stray from home overseas, from apartment, from sausages in fridge, from meat pies and muesli bars.

I black dog. I patrol carpark at Papapapai Falls. I look out for you, I never bark, I never growl, I guard waterfall, though you never notice me.  Yours, black dog.

TRAVELLER’S NOTE: We visited Papapapai Falls two days ago, and brown-black dog circled the car and stood a few feet from the open door. We questioned brown-black dog about the whereabouts of black dog, and understood that black dog has been transferred to another waterfall on the island.