Constance had once told me of an idea, she called it destiny. She said that everyone had a destiny, that everyone was somebody special. She told me that I had a destiny too, a special and wondrous destiny. I had thought at the time that she was right, and that my destiny would be found on her lap, and at her side, and cuddled to her cheek.
Now, many years later, I still believe her words. Though I confide in you that I had been not close in what I imagined it to be. Yet at that time, when all was yet future, and naught had yet come to pass, I must admit that such a promise of future hope was hard to grasp, and harder still to hold as true.
Yet it was with such thoughts I left my home early that morning, thoughts of possibility, thoughts of fear, thoughts of curiosity, thoughts of apprehension. For you see, this is not the story of a man about to go abroad on an epic adventure, sword in hard and strength abounding, with some clear vision ahead that he feels destined to conquer. Not at all.
Instead, this is my story. And my story, is the story of a 10 week old puppy, small, frail, and intimidated by a world that lays under the power of man, in all his glory and in all his vanity.
My only defence? That by some miraculous power, I had in my possession a mind that remembered with perfect recollection every moment of my life. And along with it, I had known
Constance, who had been someone who through her love and care had given me the gift of wisdom. Someone who had inspired me with wild and fascinating tales of the world. Perhaps these things would help me to accomplish that hidden purpose
I had not yet discovered.
And so it was with this knowledge and ability that I set out into the world. To seek mystery and adventure, to seek life and truth, to seek wonder and joy, and to seek answers to my questions. And perhaps one day, I will find my purpose.