Riley
I belong to the Loner pack
Where I rank as the Loner
I've lived this life for three years
And I'm fairly certain I'm a Male
My coat is black, white, and brown in color
But my eyes are brown
If you wish to label me though, I'm a Greater Swiss Mountain Dog
I find love with Nobody
While my life lives on in N/A
However, I left out that I have a weakness for puppies; probably because I know that they still have a chance before becoming corrupt as I had been...
They say I'm not only a loner by being without a pack, but also a loner at heart. I try to avoid other dogs, as well as humans - but can you blame me? My past has caused a serious injury for my present and future, and if somebody were to know my entire story, then perhaps they would understand why I avoided others. Ahem; anywho. I don't exactly talk much, and I am quite laid back despite my previous 'training'; though when something does strike a nerve, my temper goes up in flames and I become extremely aggressive. However, it doesn't stay that way for long, considering I know what can calm me and I try to avoid tense situations all together in the first place.
It's been a long journey As much as I hate going into my past just like the next dog, I suppose it is a must. I actually started out in a nice home. I was born in a litter of four by a mother and father, who were both purebred Greater Swiss Mountain Dogs. They were loving toward all of us pups, and they taught us the best they could for the while that we were all together. Around two months after our births, our humans were away on a vacation down in Tennessee. They were camping there for a few days, and had left the neighbors to take care of us. Of course, we all thought we could trust the neighbors, but boy were we wrong. The neighbors were scheming to sell us all for good money, as they knew we were all purebreds. And once our humans left, the villains took action. Around the second day, the door was unlocked to the front of the house, surely the key that the neighbors had received to come in and feed us was being used. My father jumped up, his tail wagging from excitement as he knew that we would all get to eat dinner. But it seemed the intruding humans had other plans.
Strangers came into the house, dangling the keys that the neighbors had received in their hands. There was no doubt that the traitors had given these... intruders access to our home. My parents grew confused, and suddenly defensive. It was then that a fight broke out, and eventually my parents were hauled off in leashes into large cages within the back of a truck. None of us pups knew what was happening, but we huddled in the corner of the bed together, whimpering and yelping for our parents to come back. They never did. Instead, we were revisited in the same room by those dognappers, one of which grabbed my two siblings by their scruffs, and another which grabbed me the same way. We were hauled into cages as well, locked up like pound dogs... and taken away. That was the last we saw of our home... and each other.
From then on there, things went by quickly. We were separated; taken one at a time to this man who sat within a shabby looking buildings. When my turn came, I was taken in the hands of this man and looked over. He felt me up and down, trying to determine something as I was examined. I was much bigger than my siblings, and the only male, so there seemed to be some use that this man liked... and he kept me. I stayed in this place, and the others were taken away. I still don't know where, or if they're even alive, but still I just wish that sometimes I could see them... perhaps bump into them on the street and realize that they are my family.
From that moment on, I was treated... quite nicely, actually. I was still a growing pup, and for the next month or so, they treated me quite well. I had my own bed, I didn't sleep in a cage like the other dogs around me did, and I was fed all I could eat. Bones, treats, table food. But by the time that two months was up, things drastically changed. I was pushed around more, I didn't receive table food, I didn't get pampered and pet like I used to. In fact, there were different men - some of which smelled familiar, but I was unable to tell - that came to visit me and my new human. They kicked me around, in which my human allowed such nonsense. I was hurt, confused, pained... what was happening? Was I being taken away again? No... I was still young, but I had no idea what they were doing. All I knew was that the bigger I got, the harder their hits were and the more they hit me when I disobeyed.
By six months, I was much bigger. They began to introduce me to... other dogs. Dogs that were constantly unhappy; dogs that threatened me; dogs that bit me and attacked me when I came too close. I had never seen such things! I had never been so... hurt in my life by someone of my own kind. The humans, yes, they had hurt me, but they were just humans. Dogs were supposed to get along, weren't they? No... apparently not. In fact, there was one specific dog - a rottweiler named Trident - who disliked me greatly. I assume maybe it was because he was the favorite dog of the human before I came along, and now he was just jealous. Either way, he really showed me day after day how much he hated me. I retreated, of course, trying to avoid him as much as possible... but any time I was even in the same room as him, he would try to bite me. I hated him in return.
After my first year birthday, I had been abused, beaten, forced to bite back, everything. I was trained to fight back; trained to survive what was happening to me. And once they believed I was ready... I was put to the test. Little did they know; I was not ready whatsoever. That night, there was a dog fight. I was put into a ring with Trident - my worst enemy - and expected to fight him. Confusion had set in at first, but once I finally realized what was happening... I knew I had to get out of there. It was good for me that their fighting pit was not that big, and that there weren't as many people to block my way. Once we were let go of, Trident growled at me and went to attack... and I fled. I jumped into the crowd, managing to push my way through them and find an exit: a screen door. I leaped through it, breaking the barrier and just sprinting as fast as I could, trying to get away from all the abuse and torture.
From there on out, I was on my own. I survived the streets for so long somehow; mostly traveling from one place to another and only stopping when I needed to sleep, eat, or do whatever. I usually found parks to stay in; scavenged garbage cans and anything on the ground after carnivals. Needless to say, I have grown much thinner over the years, but I am still alive and still trying to fight my way through life. And now... here I am: still doing the same thing.
The voice in my head ➸ gawdz0rz
