He barked, and barked, and barked. Mournful, depressed looks were shot his way by the other dogs, as though they had once been new and hopeful, too, and were not looking forward to another one breaking into the sad bundles of fur they all had become. But still he barked. After being told to knock if off and having a lit cigarette tossed into his kennel, he still barked. So they turned up the radio to something far too loud and heavy for dog ears.
He kept barking. One back paw stank of singed fur and the barking did not stop.
Didn't stop when the van did, either. Not until the men came around and threatened him with one of these in that thing you'd stuff in a breeding bitch while waving another lit cigarette did the barks cut off. For a few shining moments, it seemed like their new dog had figured his new place out.
Then, while being carted to his new home if your bite matches that bark, Will waited until his kennel was tilted just right. Then he peed. Urine rolled right out onto the leg of the man carrying him, who stopped carrying him with an abrupt drop and shouting. What followed was not too pleasant but definitely worth it. Dogs peed on things they owned and as soon as Sam came around, Will was certain these fellows had met their match.
Most of the dogs were kept inside in filthy cages, he saw, but Will was not most dogs. He was hauled outside and chained at a spot where he could not reach much shade from tree nor any shade from those roofs. Anyone overhead would have a difficult time spotting him if they were going fast enough, but he was there, chain a bit too tight, open to the elements, and without dish for food or water.
Sam would come. Will would give Sam time to come. Until it seemed Will's life or the lives of any other dog was in more immediate danger, he would wait. He would sit proudly with his pee-matted legs, and he would wait, and that guy he had quite literally pissed off would regret his decisions quite soon.
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He kept barking. One back paw stank of singed fur and the barking did not stop.
Didn't stop when the van did, either. Not until the men came around and threatened him with one of these in that thing you'd stuff in a breeding bitch while waving another lit cigarette did the barks cut off. For a few shining moments, it seemed like their new dog had figured his new place out.
Then, while being carted to his new home if your bite matches that bark, Will waited until his kennel was tilted just right. Then he peed. Urine rolled right out onto the leg of the man carrying him, who stopped carrying him with an abrupt drop and shouting. What followed was not too pleasant but definitely worth it. Dogs peed on things they owned and as soon as Sam came around, Will was certain these fellows had met their match.
Most of the dogs were kept inside in filthy cages, he saw, but Will was not most dogs. He was hauled outside and chained at a spot where he could not reach much shade from tree nor any shade from those roofs. Anyone overhead would have a difficult time spotting him if they were going fast enough, but he was there, chain a bit too tight, open to the elements, and without dish for food or water.
Sam would come. Will would give Sam time to come. Until it seemed Will's life or the lives of any other dog was in more immediate danger, he would wait. He would sit proudly with his pee-matted legs, and he would wait, and that guy he had quite literally pissed off would regret his decisions quite soon.