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Hintetsomaru 120   Level: 26      Posts: 70/128 EXP: 97348 For next: 4927 Since: 12-18-09 From: Home :D Since last post: 12.2 years Last activity: 12.2 years 
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| The Birth
My nose was filled with smells. I didn't know what to make of it at first. So many new and interesting scents. Others, others like me. Then the one smell I would never forget. Mom. That's the smell. She was a part of me, a part of my brothers, and a part of my sisters. She was us. We were her. That smell would never leave me, even when I was picked up by those cold, unfamiliar hands. Those hands would spell my doom. I knew something was wrong when they took me away from Mom. I could smell other dogs, dogs that were part of mom, but not mom. At first, it was fine, but as my ears opened up I heard sounds unimaginable. Fighting, ripping, tearing, blood. Why were they fighting? What made them fight? It wasn't a matter of dominance. It was a matter of simply fighting. I couldn't figure out why they were fighting. My eyes opened, and I saw her. Mom. She was fighting, and losing, to another dog, a much larger dog. Not-mom was a strange shape, larger and more muscular than Mom. Why was Mom fighting this dog? As my poor young eyes watched, the teeth came down on Mom's neck, and I saw blood. I saw the fight leave Mom, and drain onto the ground, pooling beneath her feet. Mom was dead, and no amount of my howling could bring her back. Growing Up without Mom How long had it been? I wasn't sure, but I know that they were feeding us in batches. All of us had to fight for food. They bit me, I bit and clawed back, trying to eat. There never was enough. Sometimes, I would go hungry because the bigger ones would push me out of the way. We were still young, but even now we were fighting. Several of us died early on, simply because there was never enough food. The strange beings didn't care. They would just take the dead one out and feed him or her to the bigger dogs. It was gruesome, frightening, and traumatizing. I swore I'd never be like that. I'd never be fed to the bigger dogs. That night, they fed us again, and I fought. That was the first night I drew blood. A smaller one of us got in my way, and I bit him. I bit him as hard as my young teeth could bite. His ear was torn, bloodied, and hanging out of my mouth, but he was still alive. Until the strange beings picks him up, and placed him in the pen with the older dogs. The poor one of us never stood a chance. And I watched it all. I relished in the fact that it was him being devoured and not me. Time passes quickly when you're fighting for your life, and I soon found myself on the running device. They would run me until I could not stand, then take me off and give me food and water. It was nice, better than having to fight for my food. My First Fight They put me in the pen with this big, mean dog. He was snarling and biting at me, so I snarled and bit back. The strange beings, the one who called themselves 'Owners' held us apart for a while, letting us get angry and snapping at each other. There was a smell in the air that I didn't like about this dog, and I wasn't going to let him show me down. My first bite landed on the back of his neck. It tasted horrible, like something had been put on him to make me not to want to fight. It only made me fight harder, when I ripped most of his fur out from that spot. I gagged, it was disgusting, but I had won in one bite, the other dog's neck snapped. The other dog's owner was outraged, saying that Owner had cheated somehow. Owner doesn't cheat, I was just a good dog. After a few minutes, the other dog's owner picked up the dog and walked out, unhappy. I had won, and Owner was happy that I had one. After the Fight I didn't notice until Owner started treating me that I had some nasty claw marks on my sides and legs. Owner treated them with something that made them sting very badly, but feel better quickly enough. Then he gave me meat, a raw steak I think it's called. It was wonderful, far better than the dried food we were use to. I laid down enjoying my food, while Owner talked with the other stranger that lived with us. They seemed to be mated, but why would someone mate with only one of their species? I don't know, and I don't care really. All that matters is I'm enjoying a steak, and I think Owner has plans. I was right. Owner did have plans for me. Tonight, he and I go out into the barn where he lets me breed with the girl dogs in heat. Some of them are from my own litter, but I don't care. The fact of the matter is, I'm breeding, I'm full, and I'm happy. If this is the treat for winning, I think I really enjoy winning. Moments Pass I don't know how long it's been since I started fighting. I've won so many fights, trained so much, bred with so many girls that it didn't matter to me anymore. But Owner, he was worried. I've met a few of my 'puppies'. A part of me and a part of a girl dog. They smell so unlike Mom that, sometimes, I snap at them out of annoyance. Owner didn't really like that, so I'm not allowed to see them anymore. I realized today that I've become one of those older dogs. I'm not just some little puppy anymore who struggles to fight off the others. I'm the last male of my litter still alive, because so many of them have been killed in fighting. I really want to play with Owner's pups, but he won't let me, because apparently I'm dangerous. Owner says that I am reaching 'my time', and I don't know what that means. The Final Fight Owner took me out to a big arena tonight. It's not our usual fighting ring. Something about 'the big night'. I don't really mind, with all the new sights and smells to explore. Then I see the dogs. They are big. A lot bigger than me, which is scary. I don't know if I can win against these much bigger dogs, but I'll try. I'm battle scarred from the many other fights I've won in the past, and I wouldn't be astounded if I won this fight too. Owner places me in the pen with the other dogs, and holds me back, letting me growl, bark, howl, and snap at the other dogs. I'm intent on winning, even though there's seven or eight of us in the pen. I have to win, for Owner. As they let us go, I start in on the nearest dog to me. He never expects a thing. I bite into his leg, with a sickening crunch sound and let go, fast, as he tries to bite me on the neck. Another dog blindsides me, biting down hard on my ear, making me howl. But that's not the end for me. I won't give up. My canines sink into the dog holding my ear, buring themselves deep into his throat. I can feel him breathing. I don't like him breathing. I close my jaws, cutting off his air and crushing his throat. That's one dog down. Another dog thinks he's brave, trying to slam down onto my back. It's funny how it seems like he's trying to mount me. I just bite into his leg and sling him over my body to the side, a sickening crunch when he lands on his head the only signal that he was dead. There were three of us now. Me, a large white and brown dog, and a massive black dog. I opt to take the black dog, lunging between his legs to bite onto his chest. It's mostly fur, and he smacks me away with a paw, but I did draw blood. The monolithic dog COULD be hurt. Limping, I jump at his face, biting and scratching, clawing into the flesh. The other dog helps me, for some reason, biting at his legs. As the large black dog falls, we both feel a minute sense of accomplishment, before we turn to look at one another. That's when I smell it. Not-Mom's smell. The smell of the dog that had killed my mother. I see the same murderous look in this dog's eyes. This was Not-Mom's child. Not-Mom's offspring was going to fight me. I heard the roaring of the crowd, the whimpers of pain from the dieing dogs, but I didn't care. Lunging at Not-Mom's puppy, I opened my jaws wide, to try and grab his legs, but he grabbed my ear, ripping sounds echoing as I'm thrown to the ground. And that's when I see it. I lunge, and bite into his neck just as I fall. I woke up the next day. I don't know where I saw. It was warm, though, and there was a nice lady sitting near my cage. “It's alright, I won't let them hurt you anymore.” She smelled safe, like Owner's mate. I closed my eyes and drifted back into sleep. Not the Dog “Nurse, the dog's alright. His ears and legs were messed up badly, and his ribs were broken, but he's recovering quickly.” The orderly nodded to the nurse, who stooped down to softly pet the poor pit bull. His owners were in jail now, and he was safe. So were the several other dogs they'ed managed to save from the dog fighting ring. His eyes opened softly, looking up at the woman, licking at her hand softly. He didn't like to fight, she knew it. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that there was hope for this dog. The others, maybe not. But this one, at least, could be saved. The officer had been right when she said this dog was good. Aftermath Owner was gone. I wasn't forced to fight anymore. No more tredmills, or killing puppies. No more wrestling, no more death. I was with new owners, who treated me pretty good. They kept me well fed and made sure I had the exercise I needed. They let me play with the puppies too. I really like the little boy, he's a lot of fun. He's just small enough to ride on my back like some animal called a horsie. At first the owners were scared that I would bit him, but I have not, and won't. I kind of like the feeling of him on my back now. Maybe when he gets bigger I won't, but for now he's just fine. I smelled Not-Mom's puppy, and see him in the next room. At first, he goes to growl and snap at me, but I just pad over and put my head on his neck. He knew I had won, but he still wanted to fight. It was after that night that our owners seemed astounded. We made quick friends, almost to close for the owner's comfort. I think I see how Owner could have just one mate, because I'm starting to like Not-Mom's puppy like a mate. It's weird. One day me and him are trying to kill each other, and the next me and him are calmly laying next to each other, sharing a 'raw hide bone'. Our owners seemed scared at first, when me and him started playing with each other. They told their puppies to stay out of our way, but we would never hurt them. Not-Mom's puppy was given some odd name, they kept calling him 'Fransisco' or something. I'm not sure. I didn't really like the name they gave me either. 'Gregory' is not a dog name. It's a strange creature name. Not-Mom's puppy found himself sick, one day, and I laid next to him. He was older than I was, but not by much so I didn't think it was possible he could be dieing. Late that night, laying next to me, he passed away in his sleep. When our owners tried to move the body, I growled and nearly snapped at them. Not-Mom's puppy was just sleeping. He couldn't be dead. I wouldn't LET him be dead. I nudged, licked, and laid next to him for the next few minutes, until the owner's puppy came up and tugged me away. I don't know why, but I was sad. In such a short period of time, Not-Mom's puppy had become a good friend of mine, and now he was gone. Gone forever. That night, I slept with the owner's puppies, snuggled up with them in their bed. It was actually the owners that insisted this, which kind of amazed me. They didn't seem to trust me after Not-Mom's puppy died, but he was my friend, and he was gone. Quietly into This Good Night They tried getting a new puppy, one of my same breed, but I didn't care. My friend was gone, and you cannot replace a close friend. It was later that evening when I started sleeping a lot more. Owners were worried and took me to the nice lady who helped me before. She said that there was nothing really wrong with me. Why did she lie to them? I missed Not-Mom's puppy. That's what was wrong with me. But how could she know that I was heartbroken? I don't know, really. That night, quietly as the new puppy slept with the owner's pups, and while the owners slept upstairs, I laid by Not-Mom's puppy's bed, and closed my eyes, not to wake up again. ____________________ No matter how you spin it, you have to spin it right. |
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