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Dogfish
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TITLE (EDIT)
Dogfish |
DESCRIPTION
An owner tells the story of a neurotic, once-abused dog.
[1,352 words] |
TITLE KEYWORD
Animal |
AUTHOR
Wolfa |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
Yes, I am "frollygumpaloo".
[April 2004] |
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL ADDRESS
[email protected] |
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (17)
A Really Very Gothic Poem (Poetry) This is so very depressingly gothic that you will scream with fury and tear your hair out in despair. Or maybe not. (As you may have guessed I am not over-fond of gothic poetry.) [107 words] [Humor]
Drive (Poetry) A poem. Yes. Yes it is. [88 words]
Hunting The Ghost Lion (Short Stories) An African poacher stalks a trophy lion through the savannah and encounters a strange and ancient creature. [2,146 words] [Fantasy]
I Thought We Were Perfect (Poetry) A poem. Wrote it awhile ago about someone I loved. Who died. [93 words]
Labrador Waltz (Poetry) Dark dreams. [158 words]
Saturday Night (Short Stories) A woman living in a post-apocalyptic future in an empty city. I wrote this several months ago, but as "28 Days Later" just came out, I feel the timing for submitting this is appropriate. [1,484 words] [Science Fiction]
She Had Her Dog With Her (Short Stories) Fiction/vaguely fantasy short story about someone obsessed with a woman. [2,617 words] [Fantasy]
Solef (Short Stories) Genetically modified monster escapes onto the surface of a harsh alien planet. More sci-fi. Wee. Considering expansion on this. Feels to me more like a treatment than any sort of masterpiece.:) [1,684 words] [Science Fiction]
Straying From The Path (Poetry) A Poem, once more. Ahh, my memories of a certain delightful time in high school... and the birth of my disillusionment with this whole diseased capitalist society and its ideals. [471 words] [Mind]
Terrarium Life (Short Stories) Surrealistic dystopia. More sci-fi. Needs improvement, of course, but I decided to post so you'll know I'm not dead. Yay. [1,684 words] [Science Fiction]
The Perfect Snow Angel (Short Stories) - [1,754 words] [Mind]
Where Chaos Reigns (Page Uno) (Short Stories) Page one of a sci fi/fantasy/urban fantasy story (formerly called "e") I am working on for submission to a magazine. I absolutely refuse to say which magazine. [386 words] [Science Fiction]
Winston (Part 1) (Short Stories) A brutal, viciously intelligent pit bull -- a champ pitfighter -- makes his way from the dogfighting world to a vast puppy mill. **Adapted from a screenplay** [3,013 words] [Horror]
Winston (Part 2) (Short Stories) The pitbull, Ripper, plots his escape, and a strange young woman is introduced. [3,397 words] [Horror]
Winston (Part 3) (Short Stories) The escaped pitbull forges a partnership with a bum. Meanwhile, the woman Dana believes she has finally found happiness, and the young dog Spot begins his training. [2,671 words] [Horror]
Winston (Part 4) (Short Stories) Continuing story about a pitbull and a crazy woman... I don't really see the need to describe what happens in this installment...probably no-one's going to read it anyways. Oh well. [3,116 words] [Horror]
Wolf In Janie's Shadow (Short Stories) Of a girl who fell through the cracks in the world. [2,103 words]
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Dogfish
Wolfa
Dogfish was a good dog, yus. A white German Shepherd. He had his problems, but to me, he was always a good dog. It wasn't Dogfish's fault that the people who had him first were COMPLETE AND UTTER SHITS. Dogfish was a good dog.
����He was a guard dog, first, and sorta crazy, probly, 'cause of being chained up outside all his life. They weren't very nice to him, no (what kind of an ass names a dog "Dogfish"?) -- but they really couldn't be, actually ... they were crackheads, see, and Dogfish guarded that ratty little house. I went in it, once or twice. They had porn all over the place. Real nasty stuff. "Wendy goes Wild, Amateur Housewife", sort of thing. And there were these two little kids, half black half white, crack babies. Their mum was a prostitute, their dad was a real lowlife scum. Crazy lookin little kids. They were nasty, cussing and running around like monkeys on steroids. I s'pose it wasn't their fault, any more than it was poor Dogfish's.
����One night I went over there and untied Fish. They used to beat him and stuff. It wasn't any kind of life for a dog, being chained up outside all the time. His neck had these sort of sore things on it, from the chain. He was happy to see me. After all I'd come over once or twice. Long story ... second cousin's friend's friend's mother sort of thing, right, and anyways we knew this one lady who actually owned the house. A bit off her head, but there wasn't nobody there who wasn't.
����Fish loved it at my house. He could chase golf carts and raccoons and neighborhood kids. There were plenty of all three. He hated having baths, though. I had to tie him up out in the front yard and hose him. Then when he was wet I could scrub him with one of those plastic back-sponge things that are on sticks, you know the ones, where you can scrub your back with it? Those ones. And I had to give him baths alot, on account of his being white. He got real dirty. But even though he hated baths, tried to eat kids and once ate a raccoon, Fish was always a good dog with me. With other people, he was what could be called a "vicious, dangerous animal that ought to be put down". But I always made sure Fish stayed in the yard. I posted those "BEWARE OF DOG" signs on the fence. And then, when people didn't seem to get the picture, I put up the signs that read "WARNING: GUARD DOG ON PREMISES", with the picture of the slobbering, rabid-looking Alsatian. It helped that, being a somewhat raggedy white German Shepherd, he looked alot like a wolf. He didn't have that laid-back, furry, friendly doggish look alot of Alsatians have. He was a little on the small side, for an Alsatian, white (lacking the distinctive Alsatian "saddle"), and all raggedy and dirty, most of the time. Wolfish to the core. Sometimes I wonder if Fish was really a German Shepherd, and not some sort of freakish wolf-dog escapee. You always see those things on Animal Planet where there's these overweight yuppie-types who breed wolf-dogs and sell them online or whatever. Anyways. After Fish ate a raccoon in the local park people tended to avoid him. Poor Fish. He got driven a little crazy, living in that place.
����I always looked out for poor Dogfish. He was my dog. He loved me and I loved him more than anything. It's crazy, sometimes, the way people act over their pets. You can love them more than people, and I think they're sometimes alot more deserving. I took him to some special animal behaviorist, to work on his little aggression problems. Fish didn't get along too well with the guy. But as long as I was careful with him, made sure he could never hurt anybody (not including the terminally stupid, ie; anyone eager to climb over that fence), then Fish was fine.
����Three years after I got Dogfish (he was 5), I had to move to an apartment. I was very careful to choose one with pets allowed. I couldn't leave Fish behind. That crazy dog had saved my life. I was going through a real depression thing at the time, and I had to live to take care of poor old Fish, the beaten-up traumatized guard dog. I could never have left Fish.
����But as things go, the landlord actually met Fish in person -- in dog -- one day, and he didn't exactly take a shine to him, know what I mean. I couldn't leave the apartment 'cause I had no where else to go, no job waiting for me elsewhere, and no real savings to speak of. There was no other choice. I had to give Fish away. I thought it might be better for him, really, to have a yard and everything again. Fish was a real one-person dog, though. I had to choose his new family with care.
����I brushed him up real nice and told him firmly to behave when the people came by. There were two little boys. I wasn't exactly enthused about that but Fish didn't go psycho on them, so finally, I agreed to give them Fish. I told them to call if there was ever a problem and I would take Fish back, landlord or no landlord. They agreed, smiling insincerely, and led Dogfish away.
����They called me once, about a week later, to say that they had changed Fish's name to "Prince" (or possibly Prinz, I don't really know, they were Hollander-type-people). Apparently "Dogfish" wasn't, in their view, a good name for a dog. I thought they were just full of it. A neighbor of mine once had these two dogs; a terrier-mix named Fischer and a little Australian kelpie named Morgan, who was a real bastard of a dog if I ever saw one. If you can have dogs named things like "Stubby" and "RinTinTin", then you can certainly have one named "Dogfish". Prince (or Prinz), they said, was doing just fine, and they kept him outside, and he was a bit snaaarly though wasn't he? and he certainly did go through alot of FOOD, were they feeding him correctly? Stupid people. If you're going to get a dog you should at least find out how much the thing EATS.
����They called me the second and last time a little while later, to say that poor Dogfish had been put to sleep. He bit one of their little bastards on the arm. I wonder if they have a Hell for dogs and I hope not. It wasn't Dogfish's fault that he was a little bit crazy. I hope, in a pathetic, loser sort of way, that Dogfish is frolicking right now in Doggie Heaven and eating Heavenly raccoons, but it's a watery, pale sort of image. Inside I know it's really my fault that Fish died that way, because if I'd kept him he would still be alive. There are a million people the blame can be traced to -- me, the landlord, the family, the utter shits who first owned him, whoever bred him, god, the universe -- but in the end it's all the same and my best friend Dogfish is dead.
����Anyways. That was around two years ago. I haven't gotten another dog. People can get a bit crazy over animals. There's probably another puppy out there who's beaten and abused and cold and hungry and lonely and scared, and I hope I'll find him and be able to make him happy, however short his life is. It just makes me sad to know that Fish died sad and alone, not knowing where I was, or why I had betrayed him. That thought will haunt me forever. It's not jackals that will hound my dying footsteps. It will be short, scruffy, pale-eyed big-eared white Alsatians, with wicked toothy grins.
����I hope I'll still be alive enough to see them. I want to tell Fish hello.
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"Wolfa! What a sick, twisted sense of humour! I could not stop laughing!!!!!! Fantastic!" -- Harriet.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2001 Wolfa |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
August 2001 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2762
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