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Home Is Where You’re Captive

I think I’m long overdue for another rhetorical and philosophical discussion with myself, yet while describing a potentially common viewpoint.  In fact, I could focus my thought process entirely on studying that previous sentence alone due to its excessively looping and redundant nature.**

During a mas o menos one-sided conversation with Caesar, it dawned on me that an animal (aka pet) “running away” from home is vastly close to the portrayal of Jim Carrey’s worldly-curious character in The Truman Show.  Need it be accurately described, I was in fact conversing with my leashed dog Caesar while walking back to our house and not a leashed, long dead Roman Emperor.

Who also liked riding with his head out the window***

Once again, Mighty Caesar, the Boxer of the VI Legion (the group that apparently believed unhumourous dog puns were now acceptable), decided that his reign over the backyard was no longer suitable nor interesting.  As such, he felt that there was scouting to be done of the surrounding territories (most likely for a fresher place to poop).  This short narrative isn’t about the effort it went through to retrieve him from the wooded neighbors property across the damp marsh, but more to relate our need to escape.  A true vacation is exactly that, a chance to get away from the routine whether it lasts 30 minutes or days at a time (and for the particularly emo crowd, the permanent vacation of death).

During which, by coincidence, Aerosmith's "Permanent Vacation" album is stuck on repeat

I recall The Truman Show because the plot revolves around a man who grows up only knowing of his local environment but dreams of what life may be like on the outside (I’ll stop attempting to describe a movie before I start sounding too sappy or before I make references to an inside joke, “How do YOU like it on the outside?”… oh well, too late).  Truman was subjected to a closed world.  His attempts to peer over the edge into the unknown would quickly result in a firm hand pulling him back to where they felt he should be comfortable.  “Caesar, why’d you jump over the fence and run away?” I asked my furry companion, but he only seemed regard this question with a panting, silent expression of an adventurous moment well lived.

I introduced this post as a rhetorical idea in that I’m not sure where I wanted it to lead.  I’m not here to provide answers or matter-of-fact commentary, but what needs to be vaguely pointed out is brought to the forefront of thought.  It’s a sheltered life for a pet or person.  Test the boundaries.

**While writing this post, I wanted to proudly confirm that I am adhering to my principles laid forth in The Closely Guarded Secret. If you’ll make note, I even followed step 6 to a T, thus success.

***I’m sorry for any unintentionally creepy nightmares about a now-smiling stone statue of Julius Caesar or from Steven Tyler’s face.

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