Trigger words?

You might wonder: did Dewey Dalmatian have one?

The answer would be: ..., Yes, he indeed have a trigger word like his many brothers and sisters.

but, unfortunately, my trigger word doesn't just make me run for a ball or hug someone to death.

Family.

It is more than curious to see how a word always seemed to manage to activate the most melancholic part of me for some strange reason.

... Family.

I can still remember my old family, my mom, my dad, and my ant farm in the basement where I used to spend most of my life as a human.

Family.

I can still remember ..., and I still don't know exactly if considering that is a good thing or a bad thing.

Family.

that is, when I was a human, usually away from home I could almost always be found doing all kinds of super funny pranks, trying to get the attention of the other children so they would think i was someone great to hang out with. .

Family.

..But, that never really worked for me, it never drew the kind of attention that was usually denied to me at home.

Family.

But ... not getting the kind of attention I wanted, it never really stopped me from continuing to prank. Over time, making mischief simply ended up becoming natural to me.

Family.

In general, my antics are limited to driving all kinds of people crazy. Looking to get some kind of funny reaction just for my personal enjoyment.

Family.

I was pretty funny back then, just, seeing people react when things suddenly went totally wrong ..., and I knew it was because only I had done something to make them go wrong.

Family.

Just me, it was always just me, when he did mischief, he was always alone. I never found someone capable of keeping up with me or supporting me, so naturally I was always alone while naughty.

Alone.

Family.

Hmm, tra-vie-sa-ba, that, that's a word, right? ... whatever it is, it's not like it was a walking dictionary.

Back to the point, the antics. That was not all I did to entertain myself, I also used to watch a lot of Japanese cartoons, draw and learn new languages whenever I felt like learning something new. Some teachers at my old school always liked to mention that I was some kind of genius at learning new languages or doing something.

Family.

I never really paid much attention to whatever they thought was a genius. they were usually just empty compliments from empty people.

Family.

Over time making mischief just became part of my nature, causing chaos, making people fight each other, making jokes, and causing disorder felt good to me.

family.

My parents ... they never stopped me, they never told me what I was doing was wrong. So I continued to cause as much chaos around me as possible.

Family.

It was on a specific day that I finally understood what I was.

I was the bad guy, the villain ..., I was just a bunch of problems together that evolved at the same time.

Family.

I ... was too much trouble ... for my mom, for my dad, and for all those who had the misfortune to cross paths with me.

Family.

And I was fine with that. At least now I had a clue why my old human mommy liked locking me in the basement.

Family.

the basement, the basement was my daily punishment, my old human mommy liked to lock me up in very dark and terrifying places. But, knowing that it was a punishment because I was misbehaving, I'm glad a little, you know?

Family.

My mom was punishing me for misbehaving!

Family.

And that made me very happy.

I mean, for some serious time I thought my punishment was just for ... existing.

Family.

But it wasn't! It was very stupid to think on my part that my old mom was only punishing me for existing, it was just because I was misbehaving!

Family.

So, I was happy, really happy to finally know that my former human mommy didn't punish me just for existing.

Family.

I mean, the moms who love their children very much, would generally put the worst punishments, right?

Family.

heck, I miss my old human mommy again, she must be so devastated right now. I'm so sorry mommy, I can never keep my promise ... I could never make you laugh.

Fam-

"Whoa Dewey!"

Oh my god, one of my many canine sisters just pulled me out of my deep thoughts.

"Did you paint this?"

She wonder, amazed for some reason, the very strange dog with a pink scarf around her neck.

Just when I was going to ask what you meant, I noted that my front two paws felt very wet.

"Huh?"

Raising them in front of my muzzle, I noticed that both legs were covered in paint.

then slowly turned my neck to what seemed so much attracted the attention of my colorful older sister.

What I saw ...

... No.

What saw me, straight to the muzzle ..., was nothing less than the always expressionless face of my old human mommy.

My tail began to shake.

She was beautiful. It was just as I remembered her the last time I saw her.

Her cold eyes always blue.

Her beautiful, wavy black hair.

It had it all, it was her, my human mommy, it was like seeing her through a window.

It was completely out of touch with the colorful and stained world around me, but who cares about that! It is the face of my human mommy!

I thought I would never see her again!

"She is so beautiful!" Exclaimed my older sister, her tail shaking with a speed that made her look blurry.

I found myself happily attending to his words, my old mom was certainly a very beautiful person.

"Ooh look how many details!" Exclaimed my favorite sister, going a little closer to take a closer look at my painting.

Okay, that's enough, you're bringing your paws too close for my liking, sis.

"Ghrrr," i growled, drawing my older sister's attention.

I didn't want she to get too close, I just noticed that the paint is not dry enough yet.

and she has both front legs fully covered in paint, just like mine.

She quickly got the message, and walked away from my treasure.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Dewey, it wasn't my intention to ruin your painting, "she apologized, portraying her paws to herself, "I just wanted to get a closer look, I swear "

She look pretty nervous now, as she looks at me and back at the painting of my old human mommy.

I guess I may have overreacted a little by growling at her.

I don't like that, she seems to like my art, I don't want to make her feel uncomfortable, otherwise, ¡I would be left without critics!.

Seeing that I could not transmit my message with barks that she could understand, I did the second thing that came to mind to reassure her a little and let her know that I do not hold any kind of resentment.

I gave her a hug.

She quickly reciprocated, taking the little me with their paws.

As I hugged my older sister by the neck, I also took the opportunity to clean my paws as much as possible of the paint that still resided on them against her fur.

Don't look at me like that!

It was black paint, and I suspect she is discreetly doing the same with me.

Well, the hug time is over sis!

We both parted ways, my older sister looking a little less nervous now, and with a new pair of small paw-shaped spots on her back.

You're welcome, Big Sis, I already gave you my autograph and everything ...

¡Wait!

I feel something wet in the fur on my back ...

I turned and ...

I had two different colored prints on my back.

yep, I was correct, as I suspected, it seems that she also left her autograph printed on the fur on my back.

... I'm going to need a good bath after this.

"By the way Dewey, what are you doing all alone in the basement"

Well, big sis, if you must know, I ended up in this place when two of our most chatty sisters tried to hide the little me in some kind of wall elevator, and the next thing I know, I am in this place, with a lot of paintings, reflecting on my old life as human, and painting my mother's face with my own two Paws.

That was what I wanted to say.

But from my snout, only the following words came out.

"Ba ba"

"You say you came down here just so you could paint?" she asked very excited for some reason that was still alien to me.

... What?

"But ... how did you know that is here where I keep my things, Dewey?"

Eh ..., no, I already told you, I ended up in this very comfortable place because two of my sisters don't know how to hide well, I don't even have the slightest idea of what your name is, and I only called you sister purely assumption, I don't even know if we are related or not.

"Ba ba brrp"

"That someone told you", she exclaimed, "well, I am very happy to know that you like to paint like me, maybe even one day we can paint together, would you like that Dewey? Would you like us to paint something someday? "

... God, this dog in front of me was so excited ... enough to consider it appropriate to start invading my personal space.

She must have noticed my discomfort, because she suddenly recoiled with a small blush printed on her muzzle.

"I-I'm so sorry, Dewey, hehe, I guess I got a little too excited."

Yes, just a little, just shake your tail a little faster and very soon you will start to fly with it.

"I-it's just that, well, I'm the only one who really enjoys art in our home, you know, and it's very difficult to find other dogs that enjoy art just like I do outside of our home ... besides, I'm not as sociable as Dolly, or any other of our brothers ", then under his sad head, letting out a sigh, "... I think I am the oddball in the family"

Family.

Oddball. How many times had I been called the same way when I was a human?

Answer: Never, they always called me worse things.

Dumb, stupid, freak, idiot, bastard, weirdie, and much more was what they used to call me whenever I ended my prank of the day.

How did that make me feel that everyone call me in all those ways?

Well, I felt good. Because I always knew I deserved to be called all those things.

I always did what I enjoyed, if people wanted to give me funny names, just for doing what I liked.

Then let them do it!

I don't care what random strangers want to think of me!

"Dewey what ar-"

I always have fun!

I admit it, I'm a Oddball.

But I'm the damn weirdo with more pride than anyone will ever have the bloody fortune of crossing paths.

yeah, i'm a weirdo, yeah, i like to play in real life my favorite video game and movie characters, yeah, i like to talk to my ant farm, yeah, i enjoy all the resident evil movies and y cry with the las, yeah, i like to do mischief.

I'm living my bloody life the only way I always know!

No one, absolutely no one, never, in my entire life took the time to teach me how to be normal, or how to act according to the stupid norms of society.

I had to discover absolutely everything by myself!

That my own mother locked me in the basement?.

That's normal for me!, Because no one ever told me it wasn't !

Whenever the hypocritical people told my mom, my family, that she was evil, just for treating me the way she did, I would take it upon myself to seek justice on her behalf.

I never, ever, allowed myself to stand idly by whenever someone raised an arm or opinion against my family.

My mom loved me, and that was all that mattered to me.

I don't care how it showed ... or even if it seemed the opposite to the others.

I'm a weirdo.

but at least this weirdo was always trying to enjoy his life at his 101%.

I never cared about following the groups, I always wanted to be me.

And now that i heard that one of my sisters feels like a oddball just for doing what she likes ..., I find myself in the divine obligation to transmit a message.

God, now I had to think of a way of-

Sobs

Something just toppled me out of my train of thought.

what was it?; You may be wondering.

The answer: It was my older sister's sobs.

She was crying.

Why would she be-?

My paws feel wet again.

I look down, and yep, indeed, they are wet again with black paint and now pink.

hmm, you know, curious fact about me; Since I can remember, pink has always been my least favorite color when using paint, too feminine and garish for my taste.

Garnet red, on the other hand, is, and always will be, my favorite color when doing graffiti.

Now that I think about it, will I still be able to do graffiti now that I'm a dog?

I mean, it was one of my few hobbies when I was human where I really didn't hurt absolutely anyone.

In addition, graffiti was the perfect way to vent some strange emotions that used to have a bad habit of bottling.

I see with some pleasure that I still haven't lost that habit. The image of my mother is proof enough for me.

I just wish I could be able to make a portrait of my human mommy's face smiling in my direction. I don't know why, but I've never been good at painting human faces smiling in my direction.

Perhaps you see ..., it is only for the rare thing that it happened in reality.

I have never before been interested in doing anything to try to cheer up other than my old family.

Usually if I was happy about myself and hurt everyone else, I was fine with that. Because at the end of the day, it was safe to say that the only smiles that really mattered to me were mine and those from my family.

So, I am not at all impressed that the only human face that I can portray smiling when painting is only mine.

and that was just what had made my older sister cry right now.

Bartolome Brandford's face and body was presented to me, to my Dewey Dalmation, sitting as always in that dirty and humid corner of the basement where he slowly died of hunger.

But there was something really strange this time.

This time, Bartolome Brandford was not alone in that basement.

A small and colorful smiling puppy, with a peculiar pink scarf, was accompanying him in that corner of the dark cellar where Bartolomé used to sit silently all the time to think about his next prank.

Two weirdos, sit alone in a corner ... smiling.

"Thanks Dewey"

(To be continue)