Confessions of a Gleeful Dog

Confessions of a Gleeful Dog
Written By Kelsa Nicole Pellettiere​

The assignment is to write my confession. Write down my secrets! Everyone has secrets. I have secretes. My secrets are humiliating, hostile, and repugnant at times. My indiscretions would shock the most open-minded person. I concede to them all. I admit to having secrets, but I will not publicly confess them! That is my main confession! Not one person would see my admissions as an act of honesty. Most people would focus only on the negative and look down on my character.

What am I to do? I am required to confess to something, but what? What if I confessed for those who cannot speak but are eager to communicate with us? Dogs, or rather one particular dog I know, would openly admit to being desperate, greedy, and antagonistic at times if she could; yet she cannot because she lacks the ability to speak. The following confession happened on a very normal day, outside on the patio of a restaurant, where I witnessed a dog practice extreme restraint under non-favorable circumstances. As I watched the scene unfold I imagined what secret the dog would tell. Were I that dog my confession would be…

Wait for it, wait, no! Not yet! Wait for it…

In case you’re wondering why I’m silently coaching myself is that there is a delicious roast beef Po-boy sandwich smothered in thick warm gravy sitting on the table in front of Mr. Hazard. He’s been ignoring the sandwich for the all too intentional purpose of letting me stare at the delicious, mouthwatering, tasty…sandwich. I lick my lips to stop the slobber from hanging off the corners. My mouth is wet with anticipation.

My stomach growls painfully and pathetically loud while my mind dances around the thought of consuming the delicacy. I whimper adoringly to Mr. Hazard. He smiles impishly before looking my way. The damn tease! He knows I’m trying to be good! This is torturous! Oh my goodness I’m so, so, so hungry! I whimper again more pathetically unable to hide the frustration and annoyance this time.
“Ha, alright girl, you’ve suffered enough,” Mr. Hazard laughs, amused by my evident irritation. “Here you go.”

I jump to all fours and wag my tail excitedly, furiously licking my lips. He places the sandwich and wrapper on the ground at his feet. Once he moves his hands away I attack!

Now! Go, go, go!

Oh-my-goodness-this-is-the-best-most-awesomeness-sandwich-ever! My thoughts are frantic with only one thing of immediate concern: food! Glorious food!

In takes only a few minutes to devour every crumb. The wax paper on which it was placed is licked clean to the last ‘T’. I collapse, contented with the large obstruction that completely filled my belly. I am exhausted now. All the energy I had moments ago was used up in superhuman (no pun intended) restraint and elation when resisting then devouring the awesomeness that was the roast beef Po-boy. I sigh, contentedly, at Mr. Hazard’s feet. I hear his throaty chuckle.

“Good girl,” he says. He leans over to scratch my ears. The smell of thick cigarette smoke fills my nostrils. I grunt happily at the attention. My tail wags. I absentmindedly marvel as he strokes the black and grey speckled fur on my neck. That was so satisfying…

What do you think about that confession, teach?



The Washing Parish Reading Council announced my Essay, Confessions of a Gleeful Dog, as The Louisiana Reading Association's Third Place State Young Authors Winner for the 2009-2010 school year! Was published in printed issue of Les Jeunes Ecrivains.

Printed Srouce: Confessions of a Gleeful Dog, Les Jeunes Ecrivains, Louisiana Reading Association Young Authors, 2009-2010.