Sirius Black. (blacksheep) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2015-08-08 22:00:00 |
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Dog is pleased to be outside. Dog has been going a bit stir-crazy cooped up in a small apartment with Boy. He isn't sure what kind of dog he is — he's only seen himself briefly in the mirrored windows of the tower — but "large" was a fair descriptor. Boy is outside, too. His Boy. Boy says he doesn't know whose dog Dog is or where he came from, but Dog is confident is his assessment. He knows it's His Boy because he brings him food, and pets him, and talks to him. And because the parts of his Dog brain that respond to familiar smells light up when he smells Him. His Boy. His brain is trying to tell him something else about Boy, but he can’t quite get ahold of it before-- "Come on, Dog," he hears Boy say. He doesn't know if “Dog” is his name, but it's what Boy calls him, so perhaps it is. He's confident that “Boy” is not His Boy's name, though he has no way to determine what it might be. He's tried to ask Boy many times, but Boy doesn't seem to speak Dog. A bit rude, really, since Dog has clearly bothered to learn English. And if Boy would just learn to understand Dog, they could communicate perfectly well. Unfortunately, he has no way to suggest this to Him, so they are forced to live a world of lopsided comprehension. The whole thing makes Dog rather sad. Or it would, if Boy had not given him part of his hot dog. Dog steps into the park, his large paws padding along the thick green grass, slick and wet with recent rain. He sniffs at the air. There’s something there. A beat. The wind picks up a scent and carries it toward him. His senses are alight with possibility. Concentrating intently, he lifts his snout to inhale the stream of air that rustles his whiskers. Yes, Dog thinks, heart racing, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as he pants with the determination of a dog on a mission. There are other dogs here. Dog isn’t sure how to feel about this. He knows, first and foremost, that he must protect Boy from all Other Dogs, and prevent them from getting their Other Dog smell on him. He isn’t sure why this is important, but he knows that it is. Instinct, he supposes, is like that. And far be it from him to question millions of years of evolution that have coalesced to warn him, albeit vaguely, about the inherent dangers of Other Dog smell. Apart from that, he’s also… hopeful? Nervous? Cautiously optimistic? He’s not sure, exactly, what to call the feeling. The last dog he encountered was… disappointing. It wasn’t that the other dog was dumb, necessarily. Although-- yes, actually, that’s exactly what it was like. The other dog didn’t seem to understand much of anything. Basic commands were lost on him! He couldn’t have understood more than two-hundred words, certainly couldn’t read them. He hardly knew any games. All he seemed to have any interest in doing was sniffing things, chasing things, and eating things. Which Dog loves dearly, of course, but Dog enjoys higher pursuits as well. Being a dog is a bit lonely, he thinks, though he isn't sure why he would think this. He doesn’t think that humans often contemplate how lonely it is (or isn’t) to be human. He wishes he could communicate with Boy. Boy seems to do interesting things, and lead interesting lives, and talk to interesting people who understand words like "evolution." Well. Maybe one of these other dogs will be like him. Maybe one of these other dogs will understand the complexities of The Next Food Network Star the same way Dog does. Or maybe he’ll just hang back and keep all of these inferior dogs away from Boy for the next several hours. And bark at some pigeons, too, to make sure none of them get any ideas. |