This story is written from the perspective of a household pet dog, who views humans as beings that live for several dog generations—like elves in a dog’s brief lifespan.

I was born on a spring evening. I don’t remember my birth, but this is what my mother told me. I’ve lived through two winters and three summers. Looking back, I can’t believe I spent my childhood chasing sticks, picking fights, and tearing apart whatever I could find. But now that I’m grown, I have responsibilities—sniffing out secrets and guarding my family.

I’ve changed so much. I’ve grown so much. Yet my humans remain unchanged. Eternal.

When I was just a pup, my mother told me about them. She said humans are like the elves from the bedtime stories whispered in the kennel—mysterious beings who live through countless dog generations. They see us born, watch us grow, and remain long after we are gone. They remember all our wagging tails and drooping ears. But we only get to know one face of theirs—a fleeting sliver of their endless lives.

No one knows why they care for us, why they choose to bring us into their homes. Yet they do. My human takes care of me so well, and I love her. My friends feel the same way about their humans. I sometimes wonder if these Eternal Ones ever grow tired of it. Watching us live so brightly, so briefly, before we’re gone. Do they mourn us as much as we miss them when they leave for just an hour? Or is their time so vast that our passing feels no longer than a single day in their endless summers?

Still, I wouldn’t trade my short life for theirs. Every bark, every leap, every patrol carries the weight of now.

The wise humans build magical contraptions they bring to life with a touch or a command. They can light their homes simply by speaking to the air. Perhaps one day, they won’t need the sun anymore.

But their magic doesn’t stop there. They have a glowing box called a television, which shows moving pictures. It’s as if the box holds entire worlds inside it. I’ve seen it show moments that happened long before I was born—images of places and people no longer here. It’s like the humans have found a way to trap time itself and summon it whenever they wish.

And then there’s their mobile. A small, glowing device that fits in their hands yet seems to control everything. With it, they can talk to each other across great distances, bring the television to life, and even make the lights dance. They often sit with it, their fingers tapping away, commanding their magical world with ease.

To me, these creations are as mysterious as the humans themselves. How do they work? Do the humans whisper ancient spells, or are these contraptions alive, serving their masters without question? I’ll never understand it. But I’m glad they use this magic to keep our home safe, warm, and filled with laughter.

Before the last winter, my humans welcomed a new little one into their home. It seems humans only have one puppy at a time. Their puppy stays small and helpless for an eternity—far longer than any pup I’ve known. She isn’t even potty-trained and cries over every little inconvenience. I wonder how long it will take for her to grow into the towering giants that humans become. I wonder if I’ll be alive to see her transformation.

I once overheard my humans say I’m their first dog. I wonder if they’ll welcome another after I’m gone. I’m not sad about it, though. I’m not sad about my fleeting life. To be remembered by a human is to be immortal.

My stories will be told for generations, just as my ancestors’ stories were passed down to me. I once saw a photo of one of my ancestors with my human’s grandfather. I wonder if I’ll be lucky enough to be remembered for so long. If I am, then perhaps I’ll be truly immortal.

— The End —