"—and so yeah, it was so cool," Rocco says. All he ever does is go on and on. Now you know why I hate dogs. They're obnoxious, flea-infested freaks of nature. That's my opinion, and I'm sticking to it. Nothing can convince me otherwise. "And then there was this other time when my second owner took me for a walk in the dog park." What the heck, Rocco, shut up. "Oh, oh and then there was this time in December, I don't know, a few years back and—"
"SHUT UP!" I yell, my hackles bristling as I turn on him, teeth bared. Rocco whines, his body shrinking low to the ground, his thin tail pressed between his equally thin legs. "Sorry," I say after a second, although I don't know if I actually mean it. "Just let me have some peace and quiet, okay?"
"Oh, oh, yes boss," Rocco whimpers, his eyes darting around to everything and anything but mine.
"I'm not your boss," I say shortly. Rocco whines again and begins to trail off towards his favorite spot, Piklox Alley. Sure. Go on, I don't care, I think inwardly as I watch the American Bulldog vanish from view. Good riddance. Every dog annoys me, except I do admit, there is one that I'm actually, believe it or not, scared of. But he's unlikely to show up, although that's the good thing about having Rocco. Both of us can usually take his pride down a few notches, but alone? Pooh, I'd be lucky if he didn't rip my throat out. Sure I could put up a fight, but when going against a Neapolitan Mastiff? Na uh, even though I'm on the higher end of the weight spectrum for a male wolf at about ninety-nine pounds… he is to, at one hundred and fifty. Not exactly what I would call a fair fight without Rocco to even up the odds.
I walk swiftly on the sidewalk, praying that nobody will see me. The light of the sun is faint and grey. Morning time, the best time to grab a snack out of a side street. I turn right onto Huckleberry Street. There's this one old lady who lives in a two story brick home with vivid-green bushes that provide a nice escape from the heat. She's also the only nice human around this city. If she sees me, she won't tell me to "scat," she'll just let me eat her garbage or rest under the foliage. Sometimes she'll even leave a steak bone out for me. Even less often, like once in a blue moon, the lady will leave a hunk of steak or pork. Hmm.
I turn left into the stone walk towards the home. I pass the black-stained iron fence and turn off of the stone pathway towards the wooden bank of garbage. I lift the lid up with my nose. I push it just enough for it to stay open. Phew, what's in here?
I rummage through the garbage with my left fore-paw, revoltingly looking over the remnants of various things; bones from meats, napkins, and paper plates, cardboard… Ooh! Jackpot. I clamp down on my find and haul it out, landing with a plop on the deep-green colored grass. I lay down and take the bottom of the jerky in my paws while I tear at the top of it. Man, I am lucky wolf. I refuse to call myself a 'stray'. No, I'm just a wolf that escaped the imprisonment of humans. Now I'm living an easier life than my family back home, I bet you. Back there, wherever I came from, there are probably hunters. In cities, there can't be hunters. It's illegal to shoot a gun a certain distance from a house, I once heard a woman yell at her husband. I hope it's true. It must be; I haven't been shot yet.
I perk my ears up as I hear a squeak. I turn around abruptly, my heart pounding. I immediately become calmer as I see the wrinkled grey-haired lady emerge from the door of the house. She whistles.
"Hey sweetie," she calls, her hands clapping softly. I pause, standing my ground. Does she want me to leave or come? I'm not sure what to do. She's the only human I even like. But I also don't want to get to close. You never know when they'll turn on you. Bring you to the prison where dogs get taken away by people they don't know. Or worse, get put down.
I walk a step forwards. Then another. And another. Timidly. Anxiously.
"Come 'ere, buddy. I'm not going to hurt you. It's okay," she says soothingly. I hate it, because it draws me closer. I suddenly stop and sit on the stone walk at the bottom of the worn, blue stairs. I whine a warning as she reaches her hand out. It turns into a light growl, my lip just coming above my teeth. "Whoa, sorry," she holds up her hands. What does that mean? Is she trying to threaten me? I growl louder.
"Woof! Woof!" I jump back as I see a dog appear at the screen door. Why had I never noticed it before? It begins to snarl at me. The woman opens the screen door and takes hold of the dog's collar, shoving it farther into the house. The solid door slams. Well, that was interesting. I shake my head and trot away in hopes of finding Rocco. But to my dismay, I don't. No, I come face to face to my sworn enemy—the Neapolitan Mastiff. Heath.
A/N: This one is being written pretty differently than Bandit (I think…). I'm doing even more sentence fragments, etc. I'm trying to just have this one be more of how Blitz thinks, and the longer it goes on, the more it'll probably become like that. I know it's not the greatest, but this story is just to give me something other to write than Bandit so I can take a break and have fun writing this one.
Next chapter won't be posted 'till I get a review. Thanks for reading!