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by CherryAnna 1 Part One PAUL Paul couldn't wait; it was almost his favorite time of day. He was beginning to get restless. Running up and down the driveway, tearing up the strip of grass in the center. Up the driveway, then down the driveway, over and over. He could keep this up for hours, although Paul was only small, he had amazing stamina. Paul drove everyone else in the neighborhood nuts, everyone despised him. He was annoying, he was messy, he was noisy, and basically seemed to be insane. You could never tell his moods, one minute he would be playful, the next moment he'd be frustrated and growling. Paul had a face that only a mother could love, even then you'd hope that she was blind. Worst of all, Paul's bite was as fierce as his bark! And for this reason, everyone feared him. Paul's nose was up in the air, he could smell it, and it was coming closer. He ran faster, up the driveway, down the driveway. Finally he heard the squeaking of the wheels. It was so close, only next door. "Paul," called his human, "here boy! Come on, come here! Paul, breakfast!" Breakfast. Away he darted, ready to scoff down his meal. He wondered what would be waiting for him in his bowl this morning. Would it be Turkey Chunks, or Beef, or even better, Beef in Gravy, or maybe his favorite, Mince with Lamb, Turkey & Vegetables! Numerous flavors passed through his head as he dreamed of the possibilities. Suddenly Paul came to a screaming halt. The postman, it was almost here. It would be un-dog like if he missed the opportunity to bark at the human on a bike. He would be labeled a wimp among the dogs in the district. He would be lowered to the same pathetic level of the mongrels that lived either side of him. But on the other hand, his meal lay waiting for him. Straight from the can, and he'd been good lately, only digging three holes in the back yard over night, so he might even get some Meaty Bites with it. He could smell the putrid postman. What if his human caught him barking at the postman? Would he confiscate his meal? Eating after all was essential. But the postman was here. It would have to wait, evil prevails. Paul leaped up against the iron fence that humans had put there to keep him in. The almighty crash was followed by ferocious and bloodthirsty barks. This was so much fun. Paul was ecstatic when he got a reply from the other side of the fence. "I'm going to get that dog of yours McDermott!" Paul turned with a smug look on his face to go and eat his well-earned breakfast. TIM It was a big day for Tim, and that mangy animal next door rudely woke him from his beauty sleep. Not that he really needed any beauty sleep, after all, it was well known that he was the best looking dog in the district. When Tim wandered out into the kitchen, he found his humans already awake. They surrounded around him and fussed and patted and pampered him. His breakfast was given to him, nicely heated up, and put in his corner of the kitchen. Everybody seemed to be extra busy today. His humans were talking, making phone calls, rushing around packing bags. Tim was excited. They brushed his coat for him and trimmed him nails. Over the last few days he had been shampooed, this is not to say that he had been dirty, he was always clean. His long dark coat shone, and was perfectly clipped, so that there was not a hair loose. Tim did as he was told, and sat patiently at the back door, waiting for his humans to lead him to his trailer of their car. From the back door Tim could hear all that was going on next door. A lot of noise made by humans, and pathetic barks from their animal, and ugly animal it was too, hardly worthy of being called a dog. Tim sees Paul almost every day when his humans took him on his daily walk. He was rather short, and mangy looking, his hair was long, and un-brushed. He never obeyed his humans, and was always in some kind of trouble. If he wasn't barking, he was either digging up something in the back yard, or pulling the clothes off the line. Tim couldn't understand why he did that, his paws would be filthy, and clothes tasted horrible. But for some unusual reason, Tim found something about Paul almost attractive, something in him was to be admired. Before Tim could think about this any further, his humans came along and packed him into his trailer, ready to go to the dog show. There it would be the same routine, he would be brushed and groomed, he would walk around a stage, and then he would be presented with a wonderful ribbon in front of a crowd of humans. Tim loved it. He was center of attention, and couldn't get enough of it. RICH "Richie, where are you? Riiiiii-chhhiiiiiiieeeee!" Rich loved playing hide and seek with his humans. He was small, and could fit into the best hiding places. Today, he was behind a big green bush in the garden. "Richie!" They never could find him, and in the end he always came running. Humans must be stupid he thought, but he was probably being a little unfair. These three humans who were with him most of the time were only pups still, not even old enough to take him for walks by themselves. Next door Richard could hear humans making a lot of noise. The funny looking dog was barking at them. Rich came to the only possible conclusion, Paul must be in trouble again. Good, thought Rich, he never could stand that dog. Rich just didn't know why his neighbor was always picking on him. Every time he walked past, Paul would bark at him, and then start snarling as he went on down the street. Rich had never done a thing wrong to Paul, but that didn't hold him back at all. But the next dog along was much nicer, a dog that knew how to behave itself. But even that long and lanky dog picked on Rich. Everybody was always picking on Rich; he was just a lonely wallflower. "Richie, I got a biscuit for you!" Biscuit, yum! And off he took forgetting about why he had begun playing hide and seek in the first place. Today was bath day. His white fluffy coat had got cobwebs and dirt all over it when Rich had managed to get himself stuck underneath the house. "Muuuuuuummmmy! I got Rich, he won't get away this time!" Richard barked, he'd forgotten, they were going to wet him. Rich barked his little high-pitched bark until he realized that this wasn't going to work. Struggling, he wriggled his legs around until his little human could no longer hold him. Rich ran, deciding that he'd much rather like to play hide and seek. "Mum! Todd let Rich go!" Part Two PAUL Paul's humans had gone out for the day, leaving early in their new car which Paul had frequently christened overnight. But luckily for him, Paul's humans had thoughtfully left some fresh washing on the line for him to play with while they were out. He circled the clothesline that was the center point of the back yard, taking his time in choosing a garment to begin with. Jeans, tasty, but a little tough, he never could quite perfect the skill of shredding denim. Work shirts, nah, they had too many buttons. Towels, yuk! They tasted like soap, Paul hated soap. Paul will never forget his first terrifying experience with soap. He was only a pup, and had been with his new humans for just a few days. Paul was glad to be free of his mother, who was always trying to lick him clean. Alas, his humans had betrayed him. They complained that he smelled, and Paul knew then that his humans had no style, as any well-cultured person would know his smell was a unique scent, that took some years to acquire, whereas he had been able to work it to such a level in only a few months. They held him down, in a trough of bitterly cold water, then covered him with a soapy liquid that was purely rank. After this abuse was only the second time that Paul had ran away, but he knew just what to do. He followed his nose, and went to a place, which had true style. It was heaven. Paul will never forget the sign, the sign that sat above the one place where he was truly happy. It read "Sump Oil Pit". But enough of that soppy reminiscing, and back to what was important in the here and now. The gifts that his humans had left for him on the line. Socks, yes, yes, socks are always good, but what do we have here, thought Paul- Jocks! Jocks were his favorites, just the right size, they tasted heavenly, and best of all they tear so easily when they are ripped from the line. Fifteen minutes later Paul had disposed of all the clothes on the clothes line, not a single item left. He sat down, feeling extremely satisfied with himself, to slowly chew on the trousers which hadn't torn as well as he would have liked them to. TIM The car slowed down, and came to a halt. Tim sat in his trailer, knowing that soon he'd be let out, and be lead to his area of the arena where the dog show was held. Tim could smell dogs, but something smelt a little different about this place. Tim had a very keen nose, and he's never been here before, he remembered the smell of every dog show. After all, Dog Shows were his life. Something was different though, Tim could feel it in his bone. Bone? Who put this bone in his trailer? He never usually got a bone in his trailer on the way to a dog show. Something unusual was up. Through the mesh in the front of his trailer Tim could see into the rear of the four-wheel drive that his owners drove. The boot was packed full of bags, and there were even bags on the roof of the car. Tim knew that they don't usually bring this many bags to a dog show, but he could think of no reason to explain it. Usually Tim would dismiss things that he didn't quite understand. But the smell, the extra luggage, and what was that smell? It certainly didn't smell clean. His humans came around and let him out of his trailer, and attached his lead. They walked him away from the car. At a desk they stood there talking to a human. Sniffing around Tim couldn't smell anything familiar, only scores of other dogs. But these dogs didn't smell well bread, they didn't smell clean, and they certainly didn't smell friendly. His humans continued talking. Tim only understood a few words. "We're going on holidays." "Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah." "Yes, we'll take good care of him." Holidays? Someone else taking care of him? Tim panicked, they were going away withough him. They were leaving him in a POUND! A dog pound. Full of undesirables. Tim in a dog pound! How could his humans ever think of doing such a cruel thing? Tim was pure bread, he was educated, and he was an extremely handsome show dog. Who would heat each meal? Who would brush his coat? Who would talk him for walks so that he would be able to stretch his slender legs? A strange human took hold of his lead. Tim's humans patted him and spoke to him, in words he didn't understand. At the last moment Tim thought that they would take hold of his lead again and take him with them once that his humans realized what a mistake they were making. To Tim's disappointment they walked away, leaving him with the strange human. This human didn't smell right. It was clear that he wasn't of the upper class. This strange human took him away into a room filled with dogs. It must be a torture chamber. Each dog was in a cage. Tim pulled at the lead, trying to get to the door. The harder Tim pulled the stronger the strange man became. He lead Tim to a empty cage. CAGE! Tim barked and barked, but before he knew it he was in the cage, and the door was locked. Tim lay on the floor, whining. RICH Richard's humans didn't want to play hide and seek anymore, and they had all gone inside. But that was okay, Rich didn't mind. He sniffed around for something to play with. He found some washing on the back porch, but that was no fun. The ugly dog next door liked to play with washing, but Rich just couldn't figure out why. It tasted like soap, and all dogs hated soap... except maybe the dog from two doors down, it was always so clean, and smelt of soap. Poor thing, it must be tormented. Richard could dig up the flowers again, but they looked so pretty. Rich thought that lots of things were pretty, and flowers were one of his favorites. Plus, he wouldn't have anywhere to hide when he played hide and seek. There was the fishpond. He could try and get the fish again. Rich recalled the last time that he tried to play with the fish. They didn't play very well. In fact, the fish pulled him into the water. He trotted very quickly away from the fishpond. Richard sniffed along the grass for his ball, his trusty ball. He found it in the driveway. He pushed it with his nose, to wake the ball up, to see if it was ready to play. The ball rolled down the driveway. Rich barked at it to stop. The ball kept rolling. Rich kept barking, and followed it down the drive. He looked around to see if anyone else was about whom might steal his ball and throw it far away from him. No one was in sight. When Rich turned around to look at the ball again it had rolled down to the gutter. Richard trotted down to the gate, where he would quickly go through, and get the ball before anyone knew. Richard wasn't allowed out the gate by himself, but this one time wouldn't hurt. He looked at the gate, it was closed. Standing up on his hind legs, Rich tried to open it like he'd seen his humans do. It wouldn't open. He barked at the gate, nicely, so that it might open itself. It didn't open. Sniffing up and down the gate, Rich wondered if he might be able to squeeze underneath the gate, so that he could get his ball out from the gutter. He stuck his head under, then on his stomach he pulled himself through. There, that was easy. Richard went down to the gutter to get the ball. Richard sniffed the ball to ensure that it was his. As he was sniffing it though a car passed Rich and startled him. He bumped the ball with his wet nose (*I'm wet and I'm moist*. Sorry, that just came into my head) and it rolled down the gutter, and down the road. Richard instinctively followed it until it came to a complete stop sometime later. He looked around, and suddenly everything was unfamiliar. Rich sniffed the air, this wasn't were he lived. Where was he? Rich turned the corner and ran down to where he thought his house must be. Part Three PAUL Paul's next dilemma was to try and find a place where he could dig a hole and bury the clothes that he had so expertly yanked from the line. All of his favorite digging places were already occupied from previous gifts from his humans. Along the back fence is where he kept shoes that his humans and their visitors had left out side. But like any dog would do, he brutally tore the shoe in to numerous pieces so that it would be easier to bury. Paul was quite proud of his collection of shoes. He had acquired several pairs of common sneakers, but he did have a favorite pair. One that had air pockets in the sides of them and the popped when he sunk his teeth into the shoe. He knew that these were good ones because after this his humans did feed him any dinner and he was hit with a hard stick that left him sore for days. In with his collection he had a couple of pairs of rubber thongs. These were marvelous to chew on. His teeth went in, and his teeth came out, leaving a nice little puncture mark in them. Only, they didn't taste quite as good as the sneakers. Another pair of Paul's favorite shoes were a lovely black leather. They proved to be most difficult to tear apart, but after much patience and pure brute strength he succeeded. They had been buried under rose bush. Running around with a mouth full of clothes Paul was still looking for the perfect place to bury his days work so that it would not be ruined. He had never been much of a sports dog, but he had a nice collection of sports equipment. His humans were forever throwing yellow balls at him, and so each time they threw a ball at him, Paul simply added it to his growing collection behind the garden shed. Paul also had three deflated basketballs that he was very proud of, as only skilled dogs, such as himself, could manage to sink his teeth through a basketball. There was a plastic disk around somewhere that his humans liked to throw to him, and expected him to catch it while still in the air. But every time that Paul buried that, a new one seemed to appear. Paul came to the only obvious conclusion, and that is, when Frisbees are buried they reproduce. Paul trotted into the front yard to begin work on digging up the rancid flowers so that he would have somewhere to bury his clothes. All of Paul's Christmases had come at once! His humans had left the front gate open. Dropping the clothes, and without a second thought Paul ran through the open gate into his freedom. TIM Tim was frustrated and angry with his humans for so heartlessly leaving him in such a inhumane place. All night he had howled, in hope that they might hear him and come and rescue him. Or at the very least, the animals that ran this place would come and let him out of his cell and give him a few warm blankets, some food warmed up, and maybe brush his coat for him too. Tim came across no such luck, he was yelled at by these cold hearted humans, and was tormented by the mangy and sleazy dogs that lay all around him. During the course of the night he was barked at, growled at, snapped at, howled up, and to top things off there was this tiny creature, vicious thing too, that yapped all night long. Worst of all this place stunk. The smell from all these animals was putrid, like nothing Tim had ever smelt before. Actually, that's a lie, Paul had once had a close encounter with the dog next door, he was worse than this, but apart from that, this was the worst. By morning he was becoming so annoyed and frustrated he began throwing himself against the cage. Tim thought, that if he used his strength, because Tim knew that he was of course not only incredibly good looking, he was also a bit of a muscle dog, he would be able to break out of this jail. After approximately ten minutes of this Tim was whining in the corner of the pen. His body hurt all over, and he had some how managed to get his leg severally caught in the wire. A piece of loose wire had torn into Tim's leg, and the shock of something as sharp as that puncturing his skin resulted in him jerking his back legs around, and into positions he didn't even know his legs went in. Now he sat in his cage, unable to move his back leg. Soon humans came and inspected him, poking and prodding, sticking things in his ears, looking in his eyes. A man in a white jacket came in soon after with a needle in his hand. Tim whined, but there was nothing he could do about it because by this stage the pain in his hind legs was so painful he couldn't move. Slowly the pain went away, and finally Tim went to sleep. RICH It was dark, and tonight was a full moon. Rich had been wandering the streets all day and still hadn't come across his house, or his humans. He had come to the conclusion that his humans must have moved the house to some place else, and that was why he couldn't find it down the street that he thought it was in. Rich was scared, he had never been away from his humans before, not for this long. If they went away for a long time they always took him with them. Sometimes they would be away all day, but at night, they would come back to feed him and to play with him. Why hadn't they come and found him? They should be here by now. Rich remembered that his humans weren't very good at playing hide and seek. Looking around, Rich could see nothing but wide-open spaces, with dark ally ways. Everything was dark, and he was scared of the dark. At home Rich would curl up with his blanket in his basket and go to sleep. But here there was no where to curl up, no basket, and no soft blanket for him to snuggle into. Rich heard a noise behind him, and he high tailed it down into a dark ally way. Now he was more lost than ever. Not knowing what else to do, Rich sat down and started to whimper. It wasn't long before a scrawny street dog came and started to bully Rich. Rich backed away. This dog was barking and snapping and snarling, and Rich continued to back away, and soon he could back no further. He had backed himself into a dead end. Rich knew that this was the end of him. He couldn't fight this dog; he wouldn't stand a chance. He closed his eyes and waited for his world to end. There was a bloody fight, the two dogs giving it all they had. Once they began this fight they were in it for their lives. Only the strongest dog would walk away from this ferocious battle. Blood went everywhere are the stronger of the two dogs sunk his teeth into the flesh of the other dog. Yelping filled the ally way. Meat was torn. The fight continued in this way, the stronger of the dogs tearing apart the weaker one, until the weaker one broke free and limped from the scene. Part Four PAUL Paul woke up and looked around the ally where he lay. It was long and he was lying in the dead end. There was blood on the ground from last night's fight, none of it his. The small fluffy dog that he saved last lay close to him for warmth, still sleeping. Paul had heard that there was a cocker spaniel wondering the streets, and it obviously had no street sense. Paul had also heard that his neighbor Rich had escaped and not returned home. It was a small neighborhood, and Paul knew most of the dogs in the area, he knew that chances were that this wandering dog was Rich. Paul went down to the ally where Tiny (*who is visiting from another story*) picked out most of his defenseless victims, who had often become lost or ran away from home. Tiny was an Irish Wolfhound crossed Great Dane, and in Paul's words, well not words, but barks, was one mean mother f**ker. He knew that Tiny would kill Rich, and that Rich wouldn't stand a chance. It wasn't that Paul liked his neighbor Rich, in fact, he despised him, like he despised every other dog. But there was some kind of unspoken bond between the three dogs that lived next door to each other. Paul, Tim and Rich. Paul had arrived at the ally just in time, Tiny was already tormenting Rich, and typically, Rich had already backed away and was whining. Paul stepped between the two dogs and fought for Rich. It was a bloody battle, but Paul, as always, came out on top. He had been born on the streets and had fought all his life just to survive. Tiny was nothing for Paul. Tiny's bark was far worse than his bite, and he used his down right ugly looks to scare off smaller dogs who are unable to defend themselves. But up against a dog of his own strength he was weak, and became the laughing stock of all the dogs in the area. Paul had lay down after the fight, and Rich came close to him, giving him a friendly lick of thanks. Paul was stirred by this act of kindness, as he had never had another dog be nice to him before. He was even miss-treated by his mother because he was the runt of the litter; all his life Paul had been noticeably smaller than all other boxers had. Paul returned the friendly lick to the small dog beside him, and the two dogs lay close to each other all night, not only for warmth, but for comfort. To Be Continued... |
