The weeks passed slowly, and with each passing day the pink wild dog’s strength returned. She grew more restless, more ready to laugh, eyes bright and spirits high. Her leg was healing as well as it could, since Zonga knew very little about medicine. He did get the idea that the leg bone needed to be kept straight so it could heal straight, but beyond that he was fairly useless in playing doctor.
Whatever that meant.
Zonga was happy to see Laika healing, though, and coming more into herself. It was so strange to see her hurt and weak, lacking energy, during those first days, to even lift her head to drink and eat. He brought her what fresh food he could, often killing small things to save time and to be able to carry them back, and letting her eat without mentioning if he had already or not. Most times, he hadn’t. He didn’t want her worrying more for him then she was herself, however, and he always kept himself as upbeat as possible.
The worst of it was at night, when she was asleep, and he could hear her crying in the darkness, her dreams painful as the broken bone she had been ignoring all through the day time finally got its chance to be in the spotlight, and get what attention it wanted. She hadn’t meant to make those sounds as she slept, but she hadn’t been aware of it. If she had, she might have stopped herself, done something to keep from forcing him to listen to it as he slept beside her.
Now, though, she was ready to try and stand. Her leg was still damaged, and they hadn’t moved from the little spot by the pond that he had found for them right after she fell. His expression was very clear, as far as his thoughts on the matter went. He didn’t think she was well enough to be standing, let alone trying to walk.
“Oh, Zonga, you’re just being silly. I’ve been laying down for weeks! I want to walk again. I want to go home. I want to make our family and have our puppies. Why do you have to be so sad? Don’t be worried, I promise I won’t hurt myself again.”
He offered her a thin smile at her reassurance, falling more in love with her for that one. She was very aware of his thoughts on the matter, and she knew he blamed himself, though he had no way of preventing what happened. It was simply an accident, and if anyone could have stopped it, it would have been Laika herself. But neither of them had been paying attention, nor had they thought anything of the sort would happen to them. It was a fluke, but Laika knew she would have to be more careful in the future.
The last thing she ever wanted to do was break a bone again. It hurt worse than anything she had experienced, and she had puppies before. She wasn’t sure the comparison was accurate, but it was the meaning that mattered most. With puppies, she had accepted the pain for what it was: a happy, miraculous event that required pain to complete. It was a part of a joyous occasion, and she was all too happy to bear it to bring those little lives, now adult lives, into the world. This broken leg, however, had been completely unapproved and forced on her from no where. Nature was just butting in where it didn’t belong, and making them suffer and fear for no justifiable reason. That made the pain worse, even if it didn’t physically match what she was comparing it to.
Her mind was a complicated, but simple place, most of the time. She understood how she felt, and that was the important thing in it. If anyone asked, she would happily explain herself, but it usually resulted in nothing close to clarification for the inquirer.
But at least they got a warm smile out of it.
Zonga stood beside her as she pushed her feet under her, bearing her weight on three of her legs and keeping the damaged one up. It hurt, but she wobbled her way slowly to her feet, laughing as she felt a rush of light headedness and nearly fell over. Zonga was supporting her on that side, though, and he kept her upright. She leaned on him, taking a moment to nuzzle him and lick his cheek to thank him, giggling all the while. To her it was some kind of game, and her inability to take things seriously was catching. Zonga felt himself smiling, the same way she always managed to make him do, and he let out a defeated laugh.
He might as well join her.
She managed to stand and, with some stumbling and a lot of jokes and giggles, took a few steps. She was very pleased with herself and wagged her tail furiously, even though her front leg hurt and she was easily tiring out. Still, if she could go a little further each day, they would be home in no time. Well. Some time, but it wasn’t like they were on a schedule. They lived life where they wanted or where they needed, and their little patch of green behind the rock would always be there for them when they returned to it. It was their home, yes, but that did not mean they were required to live there all the time.
Still, she wanted to get back there because that was where the new step in their life was meant to take place. That was where they would start their new family, and where the world would turn over once more. New life, new adventures, a new start.
No new leg, surely, but that was alright. This one would heal at its own pace, and Laika, as unhurried in this as she was everything else, would let it.
“Tomorrow we’ll go home,” she said, smiling at him broadly. He smiled back at her, nodding his head. Every day after that she got up, walked a few more steps then the day before, and then a few more, and then greater distances. And each day after that she would look at Zonga and tell him that tomorrow they would go home, and he would agree. Until the day when it was actually true, and they finally padded their way, Laika limping but strong, back to the familiar, soft green patch of grass next to the small puddle of a pond, behind the rock. She barked happily as she laid herself down in her bed, and Zonga took his place beside her. She wanted to go to sleep as soon as she could, excited in the same way a human child might be in anticipation for Christmas. But for her, a new beginning waited at the edge of sunrise.
In the morning, the world turned over.
(Word count: 1,165 in Word)
