The Little Bulldog
When I was a little girl, I was an adorable little bulldog who defended mom. One day she brought home a Marine who tried to give me orders but I only obeyed mom. I barked at him constantly. She told me to go with the Marine; keep him safe; and file my report with her upon returning. I didn’t appreciate my assignment but I enlisted for life.
The Marine and I stomped our feet in protest as we carried out our orders. We commiserated over them. We agreed that we loved mom and would do anything for her but this sucked. We had absolutely nothing in common. She kept telling him to take me wherever he wanted to go. She even mentioned the VFW hall frequently.
The Marine was a war hero who understood that little girls didn’t belong where they congregated. It just wasn’t proper. They’d have to watch themselves and take care of a little bulldog when they just wanted to talk. They would kick his ass for bringing a puppy into their sacred space.
Mom was insistent and I didn’t care. I was tired of the barking. I was also accustomed to being anywhere with anyone. It didn’t matter much to me. I told the Marine to just take me.
I would curl up at their feet. I would lay in their arms. I listened to their stories and asked questions with delight. I was the happiest little bulldog. I wanted to grow up and be like my men.
One day Mom took me to check my eyesight. I cried in the arms of the Marine. He told me that there were plenty of service members who wore glasses. He told me how to smudge dirt on the shiny parts to not be spotted by the enemy. He told me that there was far more than the Air Force and NASA. I cried and howled at my losses.
I was taken to the father of the Marine. He had served and understood my ambitions. He saw my glasses and smiled. He frowned while asking, “Permanent?” I nodded affirmatively to the senior Marine. He hung his head and shook it in sorrow for my loss while patting me on the shoulder.
The Marine kept trying to build up my physical condition but I would get sick. I would march and work harder than anyone else but I couldn’t do even one pull-up. I would never make basic. The Marine and the men loved me regardless. I was their little bulldog who fought for them and loved them more than anyone except for Mom.
I wandered the countryside but always went back to visit Mom and the Marine. When I became too sick to wander, I curled up at the feet of the Marine and my men for a rest. I was their little bulldog once more. I barked at them like their CO, as they smiled at my moxie. I curled up beside them as we told our stories and laughed.
The Marine gave me my final assignment before he left me for good. He told me to protect myself. He raised a proper bulldog. I fought for and defended my countrymen with no regard for myself. It’s the only order that is necessary for a bulldog once the battle plans are drawn. The rest is a given. Oorah!
Mom and I were captured. They put us in a POW camp where Mom died trying to protect her little bulldog. I managed to escape but nobody cared about an old bulldog. I barked, howled, growled and marched my broken body as best as possible.
I was tossed around and abused. My men were watching though. They saw and reported what was happening. I had glimmers of recognition. My men aren’t perfect but they are mine. I know them and they know me.
I am still under fire but I’m with my countrymen. They are easing me out of war. My men will carry on the fight. I must rest and recover to face our enemies on the day of surrender. It is a bulldog’s sacred obligation to see that justice is served when one of their own is imprisoned and murdered.
I curl up at the feet of my countrymen as I did Mom, the Marine and my men. I bark, howl, growl and march to show the enemy and my countrymen that we are strong, proud and fearless. The enemy will not win.
The enemy still comes and attacks in covert ways but I see them as do the cameras. The cameras see and hear absolutely everything. There are no secrets from my men. They are family and this is our house. We defend it against all enemies both foreign and domestic. We are proud Americans. We don’t cotton to terrorism even from our own.
This old bulldog has seen better days but I’m getting stronger and still fighting like my Marine taught me. While I miss Mom and the Marine dearly, I am home now. I will protect and nurture it to the best of my abilities like all good bulldogs.
I will also see that justice is served. Then Mom and the Marine can rest in peace until their little bulldog makes the final journey home when the time comes. Hopefully we can have peace on earth too. If anyone can accomplish that, it’ll be my men. They are some of the best I’ve ever met and I’ve met some of the greatest as a Marine’s proud little bulldog. Semper Fidelis. Oorah!
