<h1>THE DOG OF THESEUS</h1> <h2>A Short Story by © Bill Purkins 2025</h2> <h7><i>Dedications: <body style=font:COURIER;> <span style="color:gold;"> John Balaban: for teaching me to sweat over, respect and cherish each and every word I write, whether on creamy glossed paper, monogrammed stationery, a 1,000 watt radio spot commercial copy sheet, in a song or in a poem, on an airplane lounge cocktail napkin in Tahiti or Australia, in my weekly dead fish tally reports, or just perverse free verse on the walls of dive bar bathroom stalls... ChaCha: thanks for sparks, scarves in the stratosphere, spun tails (sic, <b>not sic'em</b>) dog parks and epsom salty dog day afternoons... 4<s>5</s>idedTriangle: for teaching me to stick to non-toxic crayons and the words I know how to spell... The DOGS: Felu: Your affections accelerated the purchase of my first non-short pants, after which GrandMa said, I'LL NEVER get those stains out... Candy: My first dog. Beagle. Named after my love for candy, she bit me and I cried, they took me to the doctor who said, don't cry, she just got excited and bit you by accident because you're so sweet, that's why you named her Candy... When I got home, my Candy was gone... Cricket: the magic toy poodle who appeared the day the bandage came off my arm. There was no scar, and maybe three tiny drops of blood where the incident occured, now, lost in the dirt. Lazy Ike: Moose. Gypsy: ..... to be continued... Elvis... Penny: Yapp. THE DOGS (the Band): James R. Watt: songwriter, piano, vocals, bass guitar... Bill Purkins: Bass, lead & rhythm guitars, backup vocals... ????Lead Singer: what was her name, (AIMEEEE!!!! Yes, Amy...) Frank A. stole her away and married her she coulda been a big star... TugBoat Terry: sound effects... Drummer: help me out here, Joe B. (Boy Spatula)?... Sampling: "Gorilla My Dreams" - Zacherly/Joe Franklin/Bill Purkins... Clifford: Everyone's entitled to at least <b>one</b> mistake. Brownie: You stole my hoagie. Katie Lady: :::sigh::: BugWatch... Legion: Had you had thumbs, I would have been on the low end of the leash... Cookie and Uno: Who needs air conditioning? Hugo: You <b>lucky</b> dog... </i></h7> </span> [Blank Page] <hr> PAGE 3 — STORY BEGINS THE DOG OF THESEUS There once was a rich man who cared about almost nothing except money, privacy, and keeping his shoes clean. He had a dog — the kind of dog most people would name after a hero or a friend or a long-lost uncle. But the man simply pointed at the puppy and said: “Dog.” Dog it was. Dog it remained. The man hired people to walk Dog. Hired people to feed Dog. Hired people to — to the extent possible — love Dog on his behalf. For a while, Dog didn’t seem to mind. Dog loved with the simplicity only a dog can muster: fully, faithfully, foolishly. Even a cold-hearted bastard benefits from that kind of devotion, whether he admits it or not. One day, Dog developed a catastrophic heart condition. The veterinarian, whose enthusiasm for experimental procedures outpaced any suitable ethical framework, said: “Well… we can replace his heart with a prosthetic one. It’s cutting-edge. It’s pricey. It ticks somewhat ominously. But it’ll keep him going.” The man didn’t hesitate. Not out of sentiment — but because expensive solutions were simply how he solved things. “Do it,” he said. Thus Dog received Heart Number Two. <hr> PAGE 4 Heart Number Two ticked faintly, like a kitchen timer with aspirations. Weeks later, Dog wandered too far on one of his hired walks and caught a leg in a steel trap. “We can’t save the leg,” the vet said. “But we can replace it.” And the man, who disliked the inconvenience of bad news, said simply: “Fine.” Thus came Leg Number Two — titanium, squeaky, but otherwise serviceable. Dog now had one mechanical heart, one metal leg, and roughly zero sense of balance. Whenever he tried to lift his good hind leg to pee, he toppled over with an expensive-sounding clatter. The vet installed a gyroscopic pee-assist pump. Pay-as-you-go. Like a parking meter for bodily functions. But repairs beget repairs. <hr> PAGE 5 Dog received more replacements: A carbon-fiber tail. Polymer ears. A stainless-steel jaw hinge. LED retina replacements that glowed at night like runway markers. Piece by piece, Dog became a patchwork of technology, veterinary ambition, and invoice line items. This is when the neighborhood children took notice. Dog squeaked when he walked. He rattled when he ran. He emitted a soft oscillating “vvvvvt” when he wagged his tail. The hired dog walker had to clean up Dog’s droppings with a metal detector, because Dog’s poop now contained “classified components,” as the vet put it. Children circled from a safe distance and taunted: “You’re walking Edgar Scissorpaws!” Dog didn’t understand the joke — but he understood shame. <hr> PAGE 6 Even the rich man took alternate routes to avoid being seen with Dog. He cared for Dog now — reluctantly, awkwardly — but he could no longer deal with the stares, the squeaking, the embarrassment. Eventually, exhausted by the repairs and the spectacle, he brought Dog to the shelter. He placed the leash on the counter and said nothing. The staff wrote on the intake sheet: “Parts to be recycled at current melt value.” They posted a chart of Petco Silver-Age Dog Component Spot Prices. Dog sat quietly, LED eyes dimmed. People passed his cage, uninterested. Until the boy. <hr> PAGE 7 The boy walked slowly past the cages, past the fluffy dogs and the photogenic ones. Then he reached Dog. Dog lifted his head. Slowly. Carefully. A tentative “vvvvvt” from the tail motor. The boy knelt. “Hi,” he whispered. Dog did not squeak. Did not clatter. He simply waited. “I want him,” the boy said. The shelter worker blinked. “You sure? He’s… complicated.” “I want him,” the boy repeated. They opened the cage. Dog stepped out, wobbling but hopeful. The boy wrapped his arms around him. <hr> PAGE 8 “I’m going to give you a real name,” the boy said, stroking the polymer ear. “A name that actually belongs to you.” Dog’s LED eyes glowed amber, warm for the first time in a long while. “Your name…” the boy said softly, “…is Theseus.” Dog — formerly Dog, briefly mocked as Edgar Scissorpaws, survivor of countless repairs — tilted his head. In the quiet language dogs use with boys, he said: “Is that a girl’s name or a boy’s name?” The shelter tech muttered from across the room: “Hard to say. The vet changed… uh… several things. The last surgery paperwork just said ‘miscellaneous adjustments.’” Theseus blinked, vulnerable and confused. <hr> PAGE 9 “So…” Theseus murmured, “…am I whatever I am now?” The boy scritched just behind the polymer ear — the one place that still made Theseus melt. “Yeah, buddy,” the boy said. “You’re you. You're mine. And I'm yours. That’s what matters.” And Theseus — rebuilt, renamed, reclaimed, finally loved — leaned into him. For the first time, he felt whole. THE END XXX–30 * >image not found yet>guy sweeping up after the dog day afternoon parade in the park *