A/N: It is hard to ignore Perry's whistle, as it is very unique and rather demanding. It's been in my mind for a while now to write a story centered on the birth of said whistle. I toyed with this idea for a long time before actually writing it. I finally decided to go for it when I re-watched an episode in which Dr. Cox whistles at JD to hand him a chart, and when JD does, Perry just says, "Woof," very nonchalantly, and then JD's inner monologue questions, "Woof?" The episode where Dr. Cox calls him a labradoodle sticks out in my mind too, maybe in that it just seems like a really specific kind of dog to pull out of your hat at random. With those two things in mind, I went ahead with how I thought Perry's whistle could have been born.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Warning: Implied child abuse. Language and alcoholism. We're talking Perry's childhood here…

His Will to Whistle

He found him on the way home, the small abandoned dog he couldn't bare to neglect. It had been covered in filth; garbage bits stuck to its fur, large clumps of dirt stuck on so well it had been near impossible to decipher its breed. But nine year old Perry didn't care. He couldn't just leave him, not like that.

The dog had no name, so he didn't know how to call it to him. He would snap and clap his hands, but the dog would only stare at him, his tail wagging all the while. He tried several times at whistling, but to no success. He couldn't get the bird like sound to escape his lips, so he stuck to clapping and snapping his fingers.

The dog, however, remained unresponsive. Just stood and stared at the friendly stranger who was giving him the time of day. Disappointed in his own inability to get the dog to come, Perry turned towards home. Only five steps away from where he previously stood did he hear the panting behind him, along with the soft pattering of four muddy paws. So the dog was following him home of his own will? Well, that worked just as well. As long as he could get it out of the streets.

Very quietly, he ushered the animal through his front door, but not before peering around cautiously, making sure his father hadn't decided to come home early. Perry shivered at the thought. He could pull this off if the dog was already in the house before his dad came back home in his usual stupor. Knowing his father, he would come to the conclusion that the animal had been there all along, but if he was caught in the act of sneaking him in, he was done for. Maybe permanently.

"Perry?"

The boy spun on his heel sharply, the curly mop of hair on his head swishing in front of his face. He looked down at his sister and breathed a sigh of relief. "Don't sneak up on me, Paige! You can't do that, okay!?"

Paige shrunk back a fraction, making Perry wince at his own outburst. "Sorry. I-I'm sorry. You just scared me."

"It's okay… Um, who is that?"

Paige peered over her older brother's shoulder, looking at the messy ball of fur that sat happily behind Perry, taking in the scene before him while wagging his tail. "This is a dog," Perry answered matter-of-factly. "I just found him, and now I have to give him a bath. DON'T tell Dad if he notices, okay? We can't. We have to act like he's been here the whole time, alright?"

Paige nodded enthusiastically. "Okay. Can I help clean him?"

"Okay, but be careful not to get in the way."

"I won't! I promise!"

"Okay, okay. Now help me get the dog in the tub."

"Come puppy," Paige said while clapping her hands to her knees.

"He won't come to you. Let's just walk to the bathroom and he should automatically follow."

"Did you try whistling?"

"What? Well, uh, yeah…I just –"

Paige let out a pretty bird-like whistle, and the abandoned pup instantly walked towards her. Perry watched in a strange combination of admiration and jealousy. Why couldn't he whistle? It looked so simple. Just a pucker of the lips and some air. It shouldn't have been hard.

"Are we going to wash him now?"

"What? Oh, yeah. We're going to right now."

--

As far as good days went in the Cox household, well…they were hard to come by. But with his seemingly unaware mother and his abusive drunk of a father gone, it was easy for Perry and his younger sister to bond over the companionship of their new friend. After slaving over the tub for a good two hours, they had finally managed to remove all of the garbage and filth that had made it self comfortable amongst its many strands of fur. And oh, this dog was definitely furry.

"What do you think it is?"

"A dog," Perry answered sarcastically.

Paige poked him playfully in the shoulder, causing him to grin. "No, silly. What breed do you think it is?"

"I don't think it's any breed. I think it's a mutt."

"What's a mutt?"

"A mutt is a combination of two different dogs. Sometimes more if the parents were mutts too."

"Oh… So like, a Dalmatian mom and a Husky dad?"

Perry crinkled his nose at the strange image of his sister's combination. What an odd dog that would make…

"Perry?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Like that. Except not as…weird."

"So what do you think this dog is made up of?"

"Well, he's pretty big, like the size of a Labrador, but his fur is kind of curly, like a Poodles."

Paige giggled. "It's a labradoodle!"

The nine year old boy laughed in response. "Sure, okay. That works."

"Do you want to name it?"

"Yeah, I guess we should. Have any ideas?"

"You found him, so you should name him."

"That so?" Perry asked with a grin. He liked getting credit for saving the dog. It made him feel…worth something. "Okay, then. Um…Pluto."

Paige rolled her eyes. "That's not original."

"Shut up! I can name him whatever I want. He's my dog."

The blonde girl just sighed as she walked up to the animal, bending down just slightly to pet the top of its head. "He feels like you."

"What?" Perry asked, a little alarmed.

"His fur. He feels like your curls."

The boy grunted in response. He didn't like his sister's comparison, but he let it slide when he saw the happy smile forming across her face as the dog rolled on its back to be pet further. She was happy, and for once, he was a little happy too.

--

He had lost track of time.

"Damn it!" Fear coursed through Perry's veins as he watched the hour hand land with an intimidating click on the very large nine. They only had seconds, mere seconds, before their father came home. "Shit, shit, shit," he swore rapidly under his breath. Okay, okay. First order of business. Where was Paige?

Sprinting to the other end of his room, Perry knocked three individual times against the wall that stood between his and his sister's bedrooms. It was their secret way of communicating to let each other know they were safe. Perry would knock three times, and if Paige responded with three knocks back, it meant she was safe in her room, the door locked in preparation of any…intruders. Perry would then respond with a double knock to let her know he was safe as well.

Waiting, waiting – and there it was. The three separate knocks. She was safe. Good. He was just about to relax when another horror hit him abruptly. Where was the dog?

Perry opened his door just a crack, squirming beneath his skin as he heard the front door creak open. He could see the dog sitting happily on the…shit, the couch. Get off the couch! Get off the couch and come!

"What was that boy!?"

Shit, did he say that out loud? "Come! Come, Pluto, COME!"

"BOY! Get your scrawny ass over here and say that to my face!"

"Drunken mother – COME, PLUTO, COME!"

Perry clapped, snapped, and yelled in absolute desperation. If his father didn't have him or his sister to beat on, he'd have to find another victim. And in since he never laid a finger on his mother, for one reason or another, he knew he'd go for his favorite kind of prey: small and helpless. But now, the only small and helpless creature available to his drunken care taker was his dog, unless, in the next two seconds, Pluto either decided to sprint towards his room, or Perry decided not to close and lock the door.

Fear and shame coursed through the young boy as he slammed his door shut and twisted the lock.

"Boy!? Boy, where the fu - !? …What the hell? GET OFF OF MY COUCH!"

Perry closed his eyes, back pressed tightly against the wooden door as he did everything in his power to block out the loud whimper and crash that followed his father's outburst. Small tears leaked down his cheeks as he wondered if it would have been better to let the dog continue its life on the streets.

--

Perry did not want to get up the next morning. Sure, his parents were gone to work, but…what exactly awaited him in the living room?

Slowly and with hesitant steps, the curly haired child got off his bed and opened his door. The sight before him made his heart sink to his stomach, anger and shame causing the blood to rush to his face.

Pluto was walking towards him, or rather, limping towards him, but what made Perry want to break down right there was the way his dog wagged his tail. The way he greeted him happily, as if nothing had ever happened. As if the very person who saved him from the streets didn't abandon him to the most dangerous man he knew just the night before. The dog held no grudge, felt no anger, and Perry hated him for it. He wanted Pluto to lunge at him. To bite at his arm and tear it to shreds, but instead he just dragged his leg towards where he stood, his tongue hanging out as if to say good morning.

Perry felt his knees hit the carpet as the dog left a trail of saliva down the young boy's cheek; a warm greeting. He reached out to pet his curls, muttering sad apologies for his lack of action from the night before. Yet still… "Why didn't you come Pluto? You have to come when I call you! It's very, very important."

"He won't come unless you whistle."

Perry turned to his right with a small jump. Paige stared at him expectantly, waiting for a response of some sort. Oh, she was going to get one.

"Don't you even talk! Why didn't you take him with you last night, huh!? You know how to whistle. I don't! So when dad drags his drunken ass in here you better have this mutt safe in your room, do you understand me!?"

Perry knew every bad word in the book. It was hard not to when his father shouted them through drunken slurs on a daily basis. But even though he knew Paige must know them all as well, he was still usually very careful not to use them around her. He broke that now.

He watched in silent anguish as his sister's eyes swelled with tears. "I thought you had him, Perry! I swear! He's your dog! That's what you said! I thought you had him!"

Perry grit his teeth at the cried reminder that the dog had been his responsibility. He couldn't take credit for saving him if he just went ahead and watched him get beat every night. With a sharp intake of breath and eyes closed tight, the young boy did his best to swallow his anger. "You were safe, right?" he choked out finally. "Your room was locked like we practiced, right?"

Paige nodded, wiping her tears away in the process. "Uh-huh…"

"Good. Good..."

Silence encompassed them both. They had planned on taking the dog for a walk today, but now… "Paige, I have to do something today. Look after Pluto."

His sister nodded and whistled for him to come. Perry watched, feeling defeated, as the dog and his sister walked back into her room.

--

Perry stood in front of the mirror, lips pursed and ready to make a sound; any sound. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't get them to cooperate. "Stupid lips," he muttered. It was infuriating, really. He had a little sister and now a helpless animal to protect. He was able to think of a secret way of communication in order to protect the first, but now he couldn't even whistle? What was wrong with him?

Disappointed, he let his forehead hit the mirror in front of him. Unfortunately, he hit it just a little too hard. Perry's hands flew to his forehead, trying his best to rub the pain away. Pulling back his lips into a tight line, he let out a sharp breath, trying to mask the throb that pulsed through his skull.

And that's when it happened.

A noise shot through his mouth, sharp and demanding, making him jump in surprise. It wasn't bird-like at all, and his lips hadn't even been pursed, but it was a whistle nonetheless. Perry focused once again on the mirror in front of him. He tried over and over to imitate the position he believed his lips had formed at the time of the accidental whistle, but to no success. Perry sighed as his shoulders visibly deflated. He needed to learn this, and soon.

--

He had spent so much time practicing the whistle where he had forgotten time itself. "Shit!" he hissed angrily. Once again, the clock threatened to turn nine, leaving him only seconds to prepare.

Perry ran to his room, instantly approaching the wall to knock three times. His sister responded quickly, and somehow, the nine year old boy was able to sense a bit of urgency behind the force of her knocks. She was safe, clearly, so then what…? Oh no. Not again. Why had she let him leave her room!?

Perry dashed to the door, trying to ignore the fear that flipped in his stomach as he heard the taxi pull up to his house, undoubtedly dropping his father off. He stared ahead of him, directly into the living room. Pluto stood alone, staring back at him with that lopsided grin. "Pluto! Come!"

Seconds. Mere seconds. He could hear the front door creak open, could hear the misguided footsteps of his drunken father's wavering.

Closing his eyes tightly, Perry pulled his mouth back, his lips tight and straining against the fear to let loose and cry. But instead, a very sharp, very penetrating sound broke through the air, causing his father to look around stupidly while simultaneously calling the dog's attention. "Pluto!" he demanded once more, letting another whistle escape him. "COME!"

The dog ran fast, and Perry was very glad they didn't proceed with the planned walk. That Pluto's leg was able to heal over the course of the day, and that he had spent the majority of his father-free hours teaching himself that whistle.

Suddenly he was sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the locked door as Pluto stood next to him; tall and lean and looking loyal. Perry let out several deep breaths, relief flooding through him as he heard his father crash lazily onto the couch, not bothering to turn off the television before undoubtedly slipping into a drunken slumber.

Nine year old Perry felt the dog he had saved put his head on his lap, and found his fingers suddenly combing through its curly locks. Paige had been right. They felt similar to his own. "Good dog," he whispered softly. "Good dog."

A/N: I hope you all got through this alright. Thanks for reading.

P.S. – To anyone whose reading this that has also read "His Silent Treatment." A sequel should be coming out soon, and don't worry – it won't have such a depressing theme.