In a dusty green pen outside of a rundown neighborhood, a light brown puppy whimpered under a discarded newspaper. He was freezing in the open winter air. The lacy snowflakes plummeting from the grey sky were beautiful but gave a false security. How could something so sweet be so unforgiving and frosty? Snow and slush was moved aside under four feet covered with rags. A pair of underfed boys hopped by, ignoring the bundle of wrinkles in the corral. The tiny puppy didn't expect anyone to pay attention to him. They had their own problems. Crime was skyrocketing. The slew of lost jobs made it hard to keep, or even put, edible objects on the table. In fact, the table may just be a cardboard box or the dirty floor.
The wind picked up again, blowing the baby animal's ears to one side. Looking around with his one green eye and one light blue eye he saw a mother cat walking along. She wasn't a well fed or groomed animal but her long coat made it seem as though she was once stunning. After the scruffy beast a trio of multicolored kittens tumbled. The siblings chewed each others' ears and tails in a happy manner. It seemed as though just being around others who cared, having someone to always protect you, was enough to stay happy. All four felines were fur and bones. But still the kittens played with their mother's grey tail. He watched with wanting eyes until the mother led her family under a crumbling building.
The puppy missed his own mother. His mother was a large spotted Pit Bull, beaten to death by a man desperate for food. The mother and child were trying to get back to their home under an abandoned warehouse when a skeleton of a man had staggered toward them, grabbing the pup. In the struggle to evade the man, his brave mother had ripped him away from the man and shoved the puppy to the side. Her pup barely avoided the shard of jagged glass the man used to end her existence. The puppy witnessed the ugly brute bend down to look at her corpse. He flinched from under a dumpster as his parent was tasted and carried away.
Brought back to the present, the cold afternoon carried on as usual. The area's painful midday orchestra was playing with a sudden breaking of glass here and a retching sound there. Having been in the same place for several weeks, the puppy was used to it but scared. How much longer he could survive off what others forgot in the streets like this? Life was indefinite. The small animal's future was as clouded as a misty mirror.
He heard heavy boots clacking on the crummy concrete street. Poking his head out from the yellowing newspaper, he saw a large man with a messenger bag under his muscular arm. It was strange to see anyone as well dressed as the man. His long olive coat swirled in the wind, his hat was as red as the result of the street fights, and his bag was bulging. The pup wondered if he had any food to spare. He yipped.
The man turned, looking around, "Eh? Who's there?"
To the puppy's surprise, the man took a sharp knife out of his bag's side pocket. Everyone in the area usually used glass, rusty chains, or their bare fists to fight. The tall man with a Turkish accent slowly eyed every inch of the street. He eased his grip on the knife as his dark eyes landed on the green pen. He gave it a little kick with his black boot. The animal inside fell over and he yelped in the process. Before he could get back up, two gloved hands picked up the sack of fur and bones.
Now close to the man's face, the puppy could make out features. His face was questioning and intelligent with stubble on the chin, his eyes were as dark as the night sky, and he was much taller than the pup expected. The man turned the puppy over and over again as if he were a collector's item being examined. Finally, finished with his tossing around, the man spoke.
"Who would leave a scraggly mutt like you out here?" he grunted, "Disgusting bastards, that's all people are around here. Fights over there, rapists under that building, robbers right beside you…yeesh! Personally, I think it's a little over-kill. Hm…bet if I fattened you up a little you'd be a pretty good guard dog."
Then the man looked at the puppy's sad, wrinkly face again and shook his head, "What am I thinking? You're too far gone, and I don't have time to waste. I'm on my way to America, you know, see the sights and settle into my new home. But first I have to get through these parts of this country first. OK, here's what's going to happen: I'll keep you for now then see how useful you'll be."
He put the puppy in the bulging bag then went on his way again. Inside the warm area, the puppy was a little cramped with the various loose papers, colored folders, souvenirs from parts of the world, and a ratty passport. A small globe smacked the dog in the head. It had an 'X' across several countries. He wondered if the strange shapes really looked as such. Also, considering some place called 'America' was colored orange. How fun that land would be if it was truly orange! The bag moved along for what seemed for a short time. It was six hours but the soft swaying and warm atmosphere lulled him to sleep.
Sadiq, the Turkish man, had to keep looking over his shoulder for bandits, having being robbed of his watch already. The mutt in his satchel was barely any weight, which worried Sadiq greatly. He never had owning experience with dogs and wasn't looking forward to it. The moon, the only beautiful thing in the wintery night, started to wake up for the night life. In the dark the district would be even more dangerous. Sadiq peeked in his bag for his knife to defend himself when he saw the puppy asleep. The light brown animal was under a pile of loose papers. His knife was carelessly tossed in a corner instead of its proper pocket. He retrieved the weapon and, to his own surprise, stroked the tiny animal's boney head with his ring finger.
There was a hotel up ahead on the street. Like everything else in the country, its sign's once bright neon lights were now flickering between dead and alive and the building itself was falling apart. A part of the sign crashed to the ground, spreading glass everywhere. But it was still a place to sleep for the night; Sadiq was tired. He'd be in France by tomorrow if he woke up by six. He entered the hotel and walked into the ratty reception desk. A girl with cracked glasses on her face helped him check into a musty room. The carpet, when stepped on, gave a sudden stench.
When Sadiq was alone, he reached into his bag and obtained a can of sausages. Sadiq hated the things but it was perfect for the puppy. He took the collectable plate he brought from Greece out, placing the meat on it. Sadiq crushed the meat slightly; the puppy didn't seem to have to energy to chew whole food. Grabbing his bag, Sadiq emptied the contents on the bed. He hacked at the awful smell of the puppy when he tumbled onto the quilt. The animal needed a bath. The air outside was so sour his own smell was invisible. Sadiq, after getting a whiff of his skin, retreated into the bathroom for a shower.
The puppy woke up half an hour after being dumped on the hotel bed. It had an itchy cover with exotic flowers printed on it in messy colors. The disoriented puppy looked around for his savior but Sadiq wasn't around. On the floor there was plate of mashed meat. Fresh food was unreal to the dog. Once a 'meal' was a rat that was down on his luck, a stray kitten unable to move, or a few bites of a child sitting in the street. Also, the food was tasteless. Actually, maybe the meat now was a few days old and bland yet the puppy ate too fast to even notice.
Sadiq was taking a well-deserved shower in the bathroom. The hotel had few working lights and drunks were hanging around the entrance but it was a roof and walls to cover them. He was debating mentally with himself over his latest souvenir: a wrinkly russet puppy in need of a bath. Before he had attempted to believe the dog had an owner. But few beings in the rubbishy region had the money to keep a single piece of cloth on their bodies let alone a dog.
He sighed. He'd be doing a good deed by taking the little mutt along with him but who cared? The Turk expected his trip to America to be easy: get through Europe, enjoy a plane ride from France to America, and then go to his newly bought house. That was supposed to be where the story ended. Dogs were nowhere in the story.
A loud crash followed by cursing and crying exploded outside his window. These were the rougher parts of Europe, with gangs and stealing. Sadiq remembered having to pull his knife out on a pair of boys trying to make off with his passport. He didn't hurt them but gave one a kick in the leg before rushing off. The tiny mutt was still a puppy; he'd be killed in his current state. In a few months and meals the dog would be able to defend Sadiq if anything like that happened again. Sadiq's last home was in Greece. It had been occupied by his lover, himself, and seven cats of various colors. He was used to felines sitting on his lap, invading his bed, and simply being part of his life. The life was comfortable but he longed for a better tomorrow.
"Damn it, I'm finished with this! I'm taking him with me," Sadiq growled, drying off with a coarse towel.
Walking into his room to get clothing, a towel wrapped Sadiq watched his dog vacuum up his food. The puppy was small enough to fit in the plate while stuffing his boney face. Sadiq felt a fuzzy feeling in his chest at the sight of saving a life. He dressed in his bed clothes until he felt a tugging on his pants leg. The puppy was wrestling with the cloth. Hm, thought Sadiq, he's vicious already. Then again it wasn't as if Sadiq would be ambushed by a giant pair of pajama pants.
He jiggled his leg a bit to knock the puppy away, "Will you leave me alone…uh? I didn't give you name yet. OK, let's see…" Sadiq racked his mind for a proper name for the dog.
The puppy sat next to his owner, waiting for the answer. His mother didn't give him a name. He and his many brothers and sisters were all called the name thing: 'Pup'. He hoped his new title wasn't 'Pup'; there would be at least twenty other dogs called that.
"…Hm…OK, I've got it! Davut! Wait, no. Mahire would be good if you weren't a boy. Bark goes with the whole dog thing but it doesn't fit you. Ugh, why is this so hard?" Sadiq sighed, "Look, for now, I'll call you Dadaş because my older brother has a bunch of guard dogs that look like you. Sick little monsters, they are. They ate rabbits, fished in the exotic Koi pond, all seven of 'em jumped on you the second you came in the freaking door. Man, I just realized dogs are annoying! "
Dadaş wiggled his entire behind in happiness. He even dared to lick the man's hand as he bent to get something out of his messenger bag. He had a name now, which meant he wasn't alone or unimportant. This man wanted to take him to America but Dadaş had to prove himself worthy of keeping around. He wasn't all that large, powerful, or much to look at. Yet his mind and bravery were of the top tier. If he could just find the right opportunity, this man would care for him and he'd never have to retreat to the streets again.
I thought about this idea and here it is! For those who enjoyed Why Does He Care?, this will also become a Romance/Drama. But wasn't Dadaş cute at some point in his life? Read and Review! Next time: finally in France and heading to America with a bit of trouble on the way!