I want to claim a Tracker Dog!
Username: halfwaytherefore
Tracker ID: 017
Dog's name: "Goldie on the streets" (Goldie)
Story:
He knew it was a bad idea.
From the start, he always knew it was a bad, bad, awful idea. While the person who stared down at him from a glass box and judged his every flaw, perfection, and the disgusting in-between, he knew it was a awful idea. Yet he stayed put, and tilted his head up in mock pride.
It was tiring, yes, to be told that you had everything below to catch you, but the moment he was forced to jump the promises faded under the "unpaid due". Yeah right.
Now he had to sit in his barely sizable enclosure with all the other no-purpose dogs and wait to be picked, like a child looking for the perfect apple to twist off the tree. He hoped, at the very least, his designer coat and body would bring one to accept him, to hold him, to let him sit in his lap like one of those weird 'normal dogs'. It sounded like heaven.
But, as always, he was either too expensive or not what was wanted. The body moved to the next, probably never to think of him again. That's fine, the next person who would come would be even better, maybe even let them beg at the table.
Waiting was a chore, truly. He wanted to do, not to sit and be pretty and wait until he's just perfect enough. He wished he was like the dogs beside him, with muscles to run and play and senses that could sense the forgotten and lost. But here he sat, pretty and waiting to be perfect.
The area shut down before he knew it. The lights shutting off, yelps of newborns far away dwindling. Being in the facility was all he had seen, and maybe it would have been better if it was all he's known. But oh, how he wished he could go out, and have someone to let him eat off of tables and prance, and maybe even throw a stick or two, whatever that means.
He turned away from the opening of the glass box and went outside, to the share area where they were supposed to "relax" and use the bathroom. He had other plans, however.
The wire cut him, yes, and it hurt. He was almost sure something broke when he fell, but the pain was ignored. He could feel the flashlights shining on him, his pound mates staring at him in confusion. Nevermind them, he thought. Nevermind.
If I cant be perfect from waiting, I'll be perfect from trying. Maybe when he finds someone, they will hug him around the neck like he's seen toddlers do to other dogs. Maybe they'll sneak him a extra snack or two, maybe they'll read him a story, like that one with the bears and the girl.
But, by all that he's known, he will be perfect. Somehow, to someone.