I had a little blue dog, and Winston was his name,
And every night before I slept he’d play a little game.
I’d climb between my blankets, all warm and nicely snug,
And wrap myself up tightly like a caterpillar bug.
Then I’d sigh at Winston, and nod my weary head,
and he would curl up cozily upon my linen bed.
And every time that I awoke, I knew that he was there,
My snoozing lump of little dog, his coat all blue and fair.
For breakfast he would eat like me, a little on the light,
But sometimes, he would turn his nose, and lose his appetite.
(Which was alright.)
For sometimes little dogs, they’re hard to just appease!
And Winston was a naughty boy, and difficult to please.
I used to go out walking down in the village square,
But Winston snarled and pulled away, so I stopped going there.
I liked to go a-swimming, upon the open sea,
But Winston did not like the beach, so that was it for me.
I loved the apples leaves and trees, and those I liked to paint,
But Winston hated waiting long, and so I showed restraint.
And when I read my stories in the library he just whined,
So tomes went out the window, and books I just declined.
When I did my study, too, Winston would want to play,
And though I scolded him a lot, he never went away.
Cooking, swimming, sleeping, there was hardly much for me,
That Winston didn't ruin in one way, or two, or three.
For he just would never listen, no matter my beseech,
Just going for a walk, sometimes, was far beyond my reach,
For Winston was a house-dog and he did not like the park,
And leaving Winston all alone would make him start to bark.
Forcing only made him bite townsponies, to my shame,
I could not make a friend with him. But he was not to blame.
At Sugarcube I stayed then, with Winston close on by,
With nopony to comfort us, my little dog and I.
At first it was just fine for me, although I didn't know,
Because I'd never had to fake this dog-and-pony show,
Pretending I was quite content and happy with my lot,
And thinking I was productive, when I was busy not.
But time dragged on and on and I began to tire,
Of listening to Winston, and my boredom turned to ire.
I was always such an outdoors pony, and so I did decide,
I'd try my luck and see if I could quickly sneak outside.
So on one morning clear and bright, I got out of my bed,
Thanking silently that he was quite the sleepy-head,
And I hadn't got a little farther than the flight of wooden stairs,
When a tugging at my fetlocks made me groan in flat despair!
“Winston, can’t I go out, please?”, I sighed – to which he howled,
He stalked beside the door for me, he yapped and bit and growled.
He raced around the bakery downstairs, as if to say,
'On my watch, you'll do nothing of the sort today!'
I cursed at him and shouted, “All right now, that's enough!
You're ruining my life, you know, you mangy ball of scruff!”
“I don't want you to be near me, for all you bring is strife!
You keep me from my friends so dear, you keep me from my life!
“I want to bake and read and swim and paint an autumn tree,
But when I try to do these things, you keep on stopping me!
Well no more!” - with shaking hooves, I threw the blue dog out,
And locked the door behind me, without a shred of doubt.
I was done with all that - or so I then decided,
No longer would my life be by a little blue dog guided.
I decided I'd be happier, and so I took a vow,
That I would be a more un-lazy pony – starting now!
I'd go and see my friend Big Mac, and talk about his art,
I'd paint an apple tree or two – and that was just to start!
I'd gallop to the library, and ask for brand new books,
Of knights and wizards, maidens fair, of villains, brutes and crooks!
I'd go for walks, and lovely talks, and swims upon the sea,
And I'd enjoy them all day long, for that was really me!
But when I went back to my room, I shook with utter dread,
For there he was, that little dog, upon my linen bed.
“What on earth?!” I duly cried, feeling stunned he was inside -
“I told you, I don't ever want to see your smelly hide!
“All you do is spoil things for others and for me,
I know that you're aware of this, and I think we'll both agree,
“That I would be much happier if you just went away,
Without trouble, on the double, and with no delay!”
To throw him out once more now, I grabbed him by his nape,
To which he roared at me, his sharpened fangs all borne agape.
With shock I dropped Winston, surprised by his vigour,
Only then did I notice that he’d grown a lot bigger.
He was black-eyed and angry, and no longer little,
And his bellows of fury sprayed me with his spittle.
His barks were made-up words that cut me deeply down inside,
His bites stopped me from fighting back, no matter what I tried.
And no matter how I kicked and struggled just to make him go,
He'd just refuse to budge, if only just to show,
That despite my gnashing teeth, and my ever-growing hate,
He'd just keep coming back again, again, again, to wait,
Beside my bed, and like always, I knew that he was there,
My snoozing, hated giant dog, his coat all blue and fair.
The week that passed was more a month, a season or a year,
And every bit of every day, I lived in constant fear.
The mail I took quickly, before slinking back to bed,
For the bigger dog would fill my very waking heart with dread.
My world became a palette, then, of black and white and grey,
I forgot what it was like to have a bright and sunny day.
I didn't eat, I hardly slept, I wondered how to cope,
I wondered how long I'd be like this before I went mad. I often thought about whether or not I was slowly, really going mad, and it made me want to not deal with life any more. I had a strong and recurring desire to just... not be a part of it all, but there wasn't a lot I could do about that feeling. Thinking about it was really the only thing I could do while I was awake – I couldn't go outside, I didn't want to leave the house, and if I tried, Winston would bite me, and I in turn would bite everyone else, and I didn't want to put that burden on other people, I just –
I just lay, without a hope.
Until one day, a knocking at my door took me by surprise.
It was half-past twelve that day, but the postpony'd arrived.
He'd been by earlier, and so I staggered out of bed,
Stumbling quickly down the stairs, nodding my weary head.
I opened up the wooden door, and on the little stair,
There stood my friend Fluttershy, her mane all pink and fair.
“Pinkie Pie!” She cried, and her eyes lit up with glee.
“I haven't seen you in a while, how've you been recently?”
I blinked the stars out of my eyes, and wondered what to say.
“Hello, Fluttershy. How are you on this fine and lovely day?”
My voice felt weak and frail as it slipped out of my mouth,
As though it were a lonely bird in winter, flying south.
I saw her ears twitch slightly, and she cocked her head, concerned,
But she said nothing of it, and the conversation turned,
To silly things so trivial that I didn't really care,
Where once I had - it felt as if my heart had stripped them bare,
Of everything worth loving, living for upon this earth,
And not a drop of what she said to me held any worth.
So then, instead of happy thoughts, and things that made me glad,
I only felt the urge to hide, and smalltalk made me sad.
Tilll Fluttershy – who seemed unsure of what had come to be,
Said out loud the thought that brought my sunshine back to me.
“We missed you at the summer fair and worried, so you see?
I thought you'd run away for good, into the Everfree.”
“Run away?” I said, smiling, “Well, that hardly seems like me.”
“My life is here, and if I left, who'd host all your parties?”
Fluttershy, she turned her mane, and hid her face from view.
“Yes, I know that it's just silly, but I worried about you.
“For I'm told by everypony, when you're out upon the town,
That you always look so sad, and that you always wear a frown,
“That there's black rings down under your eyes, and that your mane's a mess,
Like there's something on your heart or on your mind you can't confess.
“And your mane used to be poofy, see, but now it's rather flat,
And – oh gracious me, I'm not saying there's something wrong with that...”
“But when anypony asks what's wrong, you snap and bark and shout,
And last time you were round me, you just seemed so down and out.
“I asked you, you growled 'nothing's wrong,' – I don't think that's untrue,
But you were mad with something, and I know that's just not you.
“And I hadn't seen you out in... oh my, I can't recall,
Was it a week or month? You see, I'm just not sure at all.
“So I wondered what was going on, I thought you'd like a talk,
And I came up with the clever plan that we might take a walk.”
The thought, it was appealing, and I could see no wrong.
“I haven't been outside,” I said, “In goodness knows how long.”
“Well don’t you think it’s time then?” said the mare of flax and rose,
“Only if you'd like, of course – I don't want to impose.”
“It would be very nice,” I said, in just a hopeful way,
“So I'd be pleased to see the apple trees with you today.”
I thought to add a little more, but then I heard a growl,
Reminding me of who (or what) I was now falling foul.
“On second thought,” I shuddered, feeling frightened to my core,
“I change my mind. I don't really feel like it anymore!”
Fluttershy, she was surpised, of this I had no doubt.
“Are you sure you wouldn't like to, um... you know... just 'hang out?'”
I did, but he was watching me, and so I lied to her.
“Dear Fluttershy, I am just fine, this to you I confer!
“There's nothing wrong with me, you see, so do not stress and fret,
I have been working hard, I've had no time for leisure yet.
“The Cakes have had me working double, triple shifts a week!
And that's just why you haven't heard from me a single squeak!
“Nopony has yet seen me strolling down the town mainstreet,
And I look so sad and tired 'cause I'm absolutely beat!
“I'm positive you'll find another friend to acquiesce,
But sadly right this instant, dear, my schedule's quite a mess!
“And... I also have the oven on! So I can talk no more,
goodbye!” – I turned away, and I began to close the door.
“Wait!” she cried – and then she shied – “If it's ok with you,
I thought that you'd just like to hear how much they worry too.”
I nudged the door back open, and sighed at her request.
“And who are 'they'?” I added, feeling wholly unimpressed.
“Your friends, I mean,” she said, peeking through the half-closed door.
“Twilight, Lyra, Big Mac – Me! – Don't you like us any more?”
“Of course!” I cried – but then I shied – for was that really true?
And were they really worried, Pinkie, all for plain old you?
Was it true that Fluttershy was here to be my light?
Or was it just a shadow in my dark and stormy night?
I wondered all these things about my friend, the mare of gold,
The smile upon her face spoke of sympathy untold.
“I know you think you cannot talk,” she said, her voice so bright,
“So if you're sad, please look at me, and say if you're alright.”
I raised my gaze and met her eyes, two pools of greenish-blue,
And saw that there was warmth in there, and loving kindness too.
I could not help myself, I let slip a single tear,
How could I lie to her, somepony who I held so dear?
She just wanted to help, like I thought nopony would,
And she still seemed to care for me, although nopony should.
For all I did was snap and bark at ponies on the street,
I felt like I did not deserve a caring friend so sweet.
And I found that without thinking, I was saying quite a lot,
Even though the blue dog's growls said clearly I should not.
The words they tumbled end on end out of my open brain,
The bottle of my heart popped open in a wash of pain.
“I do not wish to tell you for it makes me quite ashamed,
I feel like that it's all my fault, and I'm the one to blame.
“I feel like that I should be strong and happy, not so blue,
Just so I can brighten the days of ponies just like you,
“But instead I'm weak and worthless, maybe hated on the whole,
And I feel like all I am is just an angry little foal.
“It feels like my ambitions are just far too much to bear,
I want to lie in bed, because at least I'm not sad there,
“A place where I can go just so I can be all alone,
To master my unhappiness, a Queen atop her throne,
“Away from little dogs, and this feeling I can't shake,
Which of my precious waking world, it threatens to unmake.
“And I didn't want to tell you this, because I couldn't find,
A reason I should drag you down, for that would be unkind,
“And I thought that you might judge me, as so many ponies do,
Because it's hard to think of anypony quite so blue,
“Let alone Pinkie Pie, the symbol of laughter –
Who could possibly think I was such a disaster?
“...I'd like to swim and read and paint, and go on strolls with you,
I'd like to be 'alright' as well, but that is harder too,
“For I just can't rid myself of this blue dog that you see,
And I feel like life is hopeless, so please just let me be.”
And with that, I bit my lip and gazed up at the sky,
Because I didn't want to let the kind mare see me cry.
She sniffled once, and I saw her eyes were rather red,
She shook her head and wiped her tears, and this she softly said:
“It makes me very upset, knowing that is how you feel,
And you're right, the thought of you so sad is quite unreal.
“But I don't think ponies hate you half as much as you did say,
And I know I'd never dream of judging ponies in that way.
“Because sometimes, we all have those days where everything goes wrong,
And we all have those little dogs that can feel far too strong,
“And talking of it is so hard, it makes you feel ashamed,
And you feel like that it's all your fault, and you're the one to blame.
“And you feel so weak and worthless, even hated on the whole,
And you feel like all you are is just a stupid, angry foal,
“But I'm telling you!” she cried, “That not a bit of that is true!
You're a lovely, happy pony, and there's nothing wrong with you.
“You're strong and kind and nice, you know, and fun to be around,
So much so that you were missed from all around the town,
“By your friends – us! – me! – who could see that you were blue,
Who love you more then anything, and that I swear is true.
“Poor Twilight can't enjoy her books, because they're made for two,
And Lyra just can't enjoy daily swimming without you,
“And Big Mac's art? He can't manage an etching –
Though I think that's because he finds you rather f... um...n-never mind!”
“But he's right here, though!” I said, and threw open the door,
To reveal Winston sitting there, looking madder than before.
“I can't leave now – he'll just come back! I can't beat him, you know?
Every time I throw him out, he only seems to grow!
“And I can't go on, I just can't!” I said, feeling my voice break...
“And I... and I just can't! I've tried before, and... and all he does is come back every time, and... I've had enough of this stupid game! I want out! I can't go on like this, Fluttershy, I don't want to be there when it gets me again, I don't want to be there and I just can't live like this anymore, somepony please help me –
None of which I could express. My chest began to ache.
Fluttershy, all teary-eyed, looked in and past the door,
And I saw her eyes pan straight through him, the dog upon the floor.
She turned back to me now, and whispered softly as could be,
“Um... I don't think I can see him, can you point him out to me?”
Winston snarled and snapped at her, and gave me quite a start,
His words of pure loathing scarred me deeply in my heart.
“Don't say that, Winston!” I begged – but he lunged and bit me too,
A snarling mass of bigger dog, his coat all fair and blue.
But suddenly, I felt a presence quite unlike before,
My eyes were drawn back down the stairs, to just beyond the door,
Where upon my own doorstep of my bakery and house.
Fluttershy seethed with rage, as quiet as a mouse.
Winston caught her eye too, and instantly he stopped,
As though his bubble had been by a flaxen pony popped.
“Bad dog, nasty dog!” She yelled, with such a scowl,
That her eyes shone like firelights, under her pink-mane cowl.
“How dare you hurt my friend with your barking and strife!
How dare you keep her from her friends, and keep her from her life?
“Get out and don't come back! She'll have you, but I won't!
I'll count to three – and just you see what happens if you don't!”
The dog, it howled and whimpered - it positively quailed,
And scarpered out the open door, between his legs his tail!
“Did it go?” Shy asked, blushing. “Oh, please tell me that it's true -
“I've never been so mean before, but I wanted to help you.”
Was she joking? I stared at her, quite unable to speak,
For once, I was the pony who was quiet, shy and meek.
“I hope that that means yes,” She added, grinning hopefully.
“Now will or will you not go on an Autumn walk with me?”
I stepped outside, still shaken, blinking brightly in the sun,
And felt the weight on my heart lift, like all was said and done.
“The trick is throwing them a bone,” she said, with just a tiny smile,
And then they'll go away, you know. Just for a little while.”
She helped me to Nurse Redheart, who said I was depressed,
and said that maybe medication could help me be my best.
“It might help your living day to day,” she said, “So that you'll find,
That your thoughts of feeling worthless may naturally subside.
“For they can help you beat the feeling back, so you see,
But only because taking them helps you live normally.
“My real prescription to you is this: go on walks!
Paint apple trees with Big Mac, and don't feel scared to talk.
“Because ever if you feel like that it's not worth going on,
Tell somepony else, and be reminded that you're wrong,
“And that all your friends and family care so deeply about you,
And respect you so much more for saying that you feel so blue.”
And that was that – my story ends, but continues to this day,
For although Winston’s gone for now, he’s never far away.
And no matter your circumstance, this story only proves,
That little dogs can follow you, and nibble at your hooves.
The trick is throwing them a bone, as Fluttershy once said,
And leashing all the little dogs
that live
inside
your head.
Author's Note
At its worst, depression can be a frightening, debilitating condition. Millions of people around the world live with depression. Many of these individuals and their families are afraid to talk about their struggles, and don't know where to turn for help. However, depression is largely preventable and treatable. Recognizing depression and seeking help is the first and most critical towards recovery.
Winston Churchill, the British Prime Minister during world war two, was a heavy drinker and manic bipolar. He famously referred to his gloomy periods as his 'black dog days'. The expression has survived ever since. The concept of a 'Black Dog' idea for this story was inspired by the illustrated book by Matthew Johnstone, I Had a Black Dog, a four-minute reading of which can be found on youtube here.
"Having a black dog in your life isn't so much about feeling a bit down, sad or blue... at its worst it's about being devoid of feeling altogether."
I'm very, very sorry for preaching. I just had this thought at about four in the morning, and couldn't rest until it was all on paper. I hope it expresses itself adequately.
For more information on the recognition and treatment of depression, please visit .
