Post by frankie on Mar 5, 2007 21:12:51 GMT -5
He sat against the cold steel, and it bit into his back with no acknowledgement from him. He let his head drop back against the bars, his dull, dark eyes fluttering shut. The dog at his feet lifted her scrawny muzzle and whined, her eyes large and trusting, thinking that maybe this time, things would change, that her master’s affection wouldn’t come with a price. Seeing no response from her man, the dog dropped her head solemnly, her eyes also closing as she pressed against his leg, hoping to keep her master warm and protected from the chill wind that blew in from the east.
The man’s eyes slit open and he reached into his lap to pick up a small pack of cigarettes, putting one in his mouth and tossing the pack away. He gazed around motionlessly for a lighter and, finding none, reached into a pocket to get a match. He struck the bright tip on the cement ground and it sparked alive. He brought it up to the stick held in his lips and lit it, then tossed the still flaming match away.
The dog winced as it hit her fur and burned her flesh, but made no noise, not wanting to disturb her master, who’s scent was now gone in the foul smell of tar. This had happened many times before, and each time, she stolidly took the pain to keep master happy. Anything to make her master happy.
The man, after a few moments, held the cigarette out to the dog’s mouth, with a wordless sneer on his face. She only coughed quietly as the smoke filled her nose and throat, and shifted her head ever so slightly so the cloud would trail away from her.
The man gave his dog a mocking smile and placed the nearly dissipated cig back in his mouth, where it dangled lazily from his lips. She wasn’t even his dog, he had found her on a sidewalk somewhere years ago, and, being the fool he was, took her into his care. Poor though his care was, she loved him, more than she had loved any master before him, and she ignored the spicy scent on his sparsely furred skin and the cutting barks he made so often now.
She was an old dog, far past her prime, and her eyes were bleary with approaching darkness. Her ears were tattered remnants of past encounters with the much larger, meaner dogs of her master’s pack, and her paws were scratched and dry, often cracking open and bleeding. Her legs were wobbly and she often had to lean against things in her master’s small den to stay upright, her ribs jutting out alarmingly.
The dog’s eyes opened and the flaps of skin left of her ears pricked up as her master spoke to her, his eyes open all the way now and his cigarette gone, disappeared over the balcony. Her ratty, tan tail twitched cheerfully, despite the harsh tone to his low growl. His black fur fell into his dark eyes, but she could still see them glinting through the thin strands.
His bark grew meaner and he pushed her away, his fangs showing. Always forgiving, she slowly got to her feet, her big brown eyes trusting and affectionate as she moved back next to him and dropped to her belly again. He snarled and pushed her, harsher this time, and she stared at him for a moment, trying to understand his sudden anger with her, then she moved stoically back to his side, pressing her bony flanks against his thigh and laying down. She almost slipped on the hard floor, and plunged to her stomach a bit harder than she intended, bringing wheezes to her lungs.
Her master still pushed her away, this time with a rough paw to her muzzle. She bowed her head low and whined, backing up with a sad look in her eyes and her tail between her shaking legs. She retreated into the dark, gloomy den, making her way to her corner and sliding off her paws to the ground, now allowing herself to cough and gasp, knowing it wouldn’t bother her beloved master.
After minutes of trying to catch her breath, she calmed. She would be fine, and she could watch over her master for another day now. She gazed out of the clear wall to see her master light another stick and stare blankly between the bars towards the cluster of dens in the distance. She would give anything to protect her master, her life.
Another sudden burst of breathlessness made her rasp painfully, and she tried to bury her head in the floor to keep her master from hearing. He wanted quiet, she didn’t want to disturb his silence.
She couldn’t catch her breath, and she struggled and gasped, sensing the growing darkness. She whimpered, looking to her master to save her, but he didn’t even glance in her direction. Another fit of coughing wracked her body, and she writhed in pain, holding back her cries of pain so she wouldn’t bother her master. More heaves, and more coughs, and still, she kept herself as quiet as she could, determined to give her master anything she could. Anything to make up for everything he had done for her.
Slowly, the darkness crept into her vision, and she grew silent, laying in her corner. Her last conscious thought was that she hadn’t bothered her dear master, and she died happy, knowing her life had meant something.
The man’s eyes slit open and he reached into his lap to pick up a small pack of cigarettes, putting one in his mouth and tossing the pack away. He gazed around motionlessly for a lighter and, finding none, reached into a pocket to get a match. He struck the bright tip on the cement ground and it sparked alive. He brought it up to the stick held in his lips and lit it, then tossed the still flaming match away.
The dog winced as it hit her fur and burned her flesh, but made no noise, not wanting to disturb her master, who’s scent was now gone in the foul smell of tar. This had happened many times before, and each time, she stolidly took the pain to keep master happy. Anything to make her master happy.
The man, after a few moments, held the cigarette out to the dog’s mouth, with a wordless sneer on his face. She only coughed quietly as the smoke filled her nose and throat, and shifted her head ever so slightly so the cloud would trail away from her.
The man gave his dog a mocking smile and placed the nearly dissipated cig back in his mouth, where it dangled lazily from his lips. She wasn’t even his dog, he had found her on a sidewalk somewhere years ago, and, being the fool he was, took her into his care. Poor though his care was, she loved him, more than she had loved any master before him, and she ignored the spicy scent on his sparsely furred skin and the cutting barks he made so often now.
She was an old dog, far past her prime, and her eyes were bleary with approaching darkness. Her ears were tattered remnants of past encounters with the much larger, meaner dogs of her master’s pack, and her paws were scratched and dry, often cracking open and bleeding. Her legs were wobbly and she often had to lean against things in her master’s small den to stay upright, her ribs jutting out alarmingly.
The dog’s eyes opened and the flaps of skin left of her ears pricked up as her master spoke to her, his eyes open all the way now and his cigarette gone, disappeared over the balcony. Her ratty, tan tail twitched cheerfully, despite the harsh tone to his low growl. His black fur fell into his dark eyes, but she could still see them glinting through the thin strands.
His bark grew meaner and he pushed her away, his fangs showing. Always forgiving, she slowly got to her feet, her big brown eyes trusting and affectionate as she moved back next to him and dropped to her belly again. He snarled and pushed her, harsher this time, and she stared at him for a moment, trying to understand his sudden anger with her, then she moved stoically back to his side, pressing her bony flanks against his thigh and laying down. She almost slipped on the hard floor, and plunged to her stomach a bit harder than she intended, bringing wheezes to her lungs.
Her master still pushed her away, this time with a rough paw to her muzzle. She bowed her head low and whined, backing up with a sad look in her eyes and her tail between her shaking legs. She retreated into the dark, gloomy den, making her way to her corner and sliding off her paws to the ground, now allowing herself to cough and gasp, knowing it wouldn’t bother her beloved master.
After minutes of trying to catch her breath, she calmed. She would be fine, and she could watch over her master for another day now. She gazed out of the clear wall to see her master light another stick and stare blankly between the bars towards the cluster of dens in the distance. She would give anything to protect her master, her life.
Another sudden burst of breathlessness made her rasp painfully, and she tried to bury her head in the floor to keep her master from hearing. He wanted quiet, she didn’t want to disturb his silence.
She couldn’t catch her breath, and she struggled and gasped, sensing the growing darkness. She whimpered, looking to her master to save her, but he didn’t even glance in her direction. Another fit of coughing wracked her body, and she writhed in pain, holding back her cries of pain so she wouldn’t bother her master. More heaves, and more coughs, and still, she kept herself as quiet as she could, determined to give her master anything she could. Anything to make up for everything he had done for her.
Slowly, the darkness crept into her vision, and she grew silent, laying in her corner. Her last conscious thought was that she hadn’t bothered her dear master, and she died happy, knowing her life had meant something.
