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The Dog Pound
No prizes for identifying the allegory
Jan 4th. New manager started today. Says he’s gonna change things up a bit, make us more efficient. Improve discipline. First thing is we have to cut the feed rations. “Gotta live within our means,” he says. Don’t know how that’ll work out. They barely get enough to go round as it is.
Jan 9th. The dogs have been on reduced feed for nearly a week now. Hurts me to catch the hungry look in their eyes. Hurts all of us. But we’re under strict orders. Jess complained to the boss about the new system and got a written warning for ‘disloyalty’. Everyone’s on edge. Not as much as the dogs, though.
Jan 12th. At the briefing this morning the Boss said the whole feed allowance thing wasn’t just to save money. “It’s about discipline,” he said. He opened up the storeroom alongside the office that only he has the key to, hauled out one of the big sacks of feed. Dragged it over to the pen, and you should have heard them yelping! Pitiful. He started doling out scoops of feed, and they were nuzzling up to him like he was their saviour or something. If only the poor mutts knew why they were hungry in the first place!
Jan 20th. Same routine. He’s the only one allowed to bring out the big sack and dole out the extra scoops, a couple o’ times a week. They come whinnying over to him as soon as they…
