Farm Life 1 (Patreon)

Okay so clearly Federick and Boxer wanted me to elaborate on some scenes from the Farm Life pictures. But before I tell you that story, I gotta tell you this story. Comments appreciated!

--

My contact was there to pick me up right away off the bus station, driving around in a much fancier sports car than I expected a farmer to have, though it was just as dusty and muddy along the bottom as a work truck. She was a looker, as well; Darleen was a rough collie of the usual tritone coat, a bit speckled and sunbleached from her age. But, as she lifted her aviators to get a good look at me, she nevertheless seemed so young, dressing almost like she was going to the beach with her jeans cut high to show off the flowing fur on her thighs.

It was a hot day and I regretted wearing my letterman jacket, so I just threw it in the back of the convertible along with my luggage. We made pleasantries as she peeled down the road, back some miles from where the bus came, but turning off into a dirt road. After that, she explained where I was going to stay, the sort of jobs I was expected to fill, what the hours were like, if I was a church-goer or not (I was, like I expected all civilized people to be), all of which I understood and nodded to.

“Y’ain’t here to switch, are ya?” Darleen gave me the weirdest narrow-eyed look.

Now honestly, I was a city boy, through-and-through. I hadn’t ever even seen a cow except in pictures, and the closest I ever got to horseback riding was the mechanical quarter-muncher outside the Five and Dime. So my mind wasn’t there when Darleen asked; in fact, I was trying not to stare at her cleavage, tousled with her long chest fur just-so, held back just barely by the plaid shirt she had tied in front.

“S-switch?” I asked.

“You know. City folk come out here cause they want to change from being regular folk to being animals.”

I tilted my head, my half-floppy ears dipping with me. “People… do that?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not!” I said. “Honestly. I really am that dumb.”

Darleen laughed. Her mane bounced as she threw her head back. “You didn’t lie about your age, didja?”

“No, ma’am, I’m twenty-two.”

“So why did you come out here?”

“To be honest?” I scratched my chin. “I’m getting tired of being soft. Sitting at a desk all day, I don’t feel like anything I’m doing is real. I need to work with my hands, to get dirty, all that. And I know farm life is hard work. I expect it. I want to be challenged, to wake up too early, to feel sore and everything that comes with it.”

Darleen grinned. “So this is a vacation workout to you?”

“More like a cleansing,” I said.

“I’ll do my best to disabuse you of that notion.” Darleen smiled.

I chuckled nervously, and looked out at the rolling blue hills in the far distance. The farm was located in a rather secluded valley, and I’d picked it for the view; too much of the midwest was too flat; just open sky for miles and miles, which I’m sure would have driven me crazy. Mountains were a lot cozier, crumpling in around me like bedsheets. Maybe that was why I’d stuck to the city most of my life.

“So what was that about switching?” I asked Darleen again.

“Don’t,” Darleen said.

“Well, I don’t plan on it, I’d just like to know what it is I’m not doing so I don’t do it by accident.”

“I mean,” Darleen said, “Don’t let the animals make you go native. You’re their boss, you got it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And being civilized folk, you gotta keep your pants on. ‘Cept when you’re bathing or sleeping or whatnot.”

“Well of course,” I said, my face turning red under my fur.

“And since you don’t seem to be acutely aware of the fact, I’ll spell it out for ya. You go native, your citizen license gets revoked.”

I blinked. “Wh… they can do that?”

“There’s rules if you want to remain a civilized person. Your momma probably taught you not to run around naked, and you think that’s a thing that people just do naturally. It’s not. That’s the price of being civilized. The inspectors come around here, see you carousing with the livestock with nary a stitch, eating their feed and all that, and bam. You’re legally an animal now, and ya ain’t my employee anymore; the farm would own you, and I gotta treat you like an animal if I’m gonna stay a citizen myself. Farm’s gotta be run by citizens; animals can’t do that themselves. And it’s much, much harder to go back. Animals gotta take citizenship tests and get probation and everything, can take years, and most don’t have the disposition for it. So, don’t do it.”

Well, I guess I’d heard of it in the abstract before, but I’d never met any animals who had become citizens. But hearing it spoken of like it was a temptation, that was new. I mean, I’d never even owned a pet—my apartment wouldn’t allow it, but I didn’t exactly envy pets, having to obediently do whatever their owners demanded all the time; I was already done being a child and wasn’t about to move back in with my parents, or get new ones. And I envied wild animals even less; living out in the wilderness without any civilization, medicine, communication, or toys whatsoever and dying significantly younger just seemed too brutal for my taste.

“I take it you don’t talk to animals much,” Darleen said.

“I’ve never really seen the point,” I said.

“Uh-huh. Well this’ll be interesting, at the very least. Well, you can meet the other farmhands at dinner, then you get a good look at the layout of the place, and we’ll get you started in the morning.”

—

I lucked out when it came to beds, having a semi-private space in the loft. It was cramped compared to the bunks below, and the mattress wasn’t the best, and it didn’t block out any of the noise of other farmhands snoring, and a big old window right above me was absolutely certain to blast light in my eyes first thing in the morning. But it did mean I could just sort my luggage after lights out, and watch some videos on low without disturbing anyone.

But as I’d undressed to get in bed, I hesitated, looking at myself in the old, cracked mirror. I was still wearing boxers, but because I was alone, and weirdly curious, I pulled them all the way off until I was fully nude, balls and sheath hanging out in the dusty air, and I really looked at myself for what was possibly the first time.

I was as I’d always been, though. A border collie. Two tone, black and white. Male. Undocked. I’d been working to remove the flab from my midsection, but other than that…did I really look any different than an animal? I mean, I’d always thought I’d seen citizens and animals as having different inherent qualities to them. Certain individuals just had the bearing of civilization, and others the bearing of beasts.

I imagined a collar around my neck, bringing a hand up to cover that part of me. Instantly, I regretted it; I remembered in that moment seeing a dog a lot like myself on television, and an animal, to boot. I hadn’t even thought he looked a thing like me until that moment, when I looked at my own eyes and saw the exact same thing I’d seen in, perhaps, every animal I’d ever looked at, with a haughty feeling that I was above them.

Quickly, I yanked my boxers back on and turned out the lamp. I didn’t want to think about that. But I couldn’t help but see it, as I laid in bed and saw the stars hanging above me; the line between person and non was far, far more fragile than I’d been told. And I couldn’t help but keep seeing myself on both sides of that line, when before I’d been blessedly ignorant of it.

“Whatever,” I told myself, finally, yawning and turning under the sheets. It was weird, I guessed, that the defining line was remaining clothed. But clothes never bothered me. Maybe that’s what made me a citizen. I had the disposition to wear clothes, and so I could benefit from the civilized world. That was all there was to it. Arbitrary? Sure. But I could live with that.

I wondered why nobody really explained it to me that way before.