A Second Chance

[geitz]

He really had no idea what was happening, transferred from one torture to the next, everything had changed far beyond his wildest dreams...or nightmares. He went from a really small cage, to a larger cage, now to a small yet comfortable prison with a view. Formosa paced again and again in the small car, trampling over discarded human garments as he watched the world go by at blinding speed, trees, houses...more trees, more houses. He was not sure he liked this one bit, but he managed to stay calm...or as calm as one can be in such a situation. The long-legged battle-scarred young warrior examined the person driving, he was old and seemingly frail, as humans went. What did this one want? First he was sent to kill, then he was put on display, now what? Anything had to be better than what he had, and this one...was different somehow. He wasn't afraid of Formosa when he came to visit, and that was a first.

The vehicle slowed to a halt, the old man got out and walked around and opened the door to the mobile cell. Formosa didn't move. He just stared outside, hardly believing his eyes. "Come on out, it's alright" The old man said. What was this, a trick? The old man couldn't possibly be giving the black dog his freedom? Slowly, ever so slowly, Formosa moved forward, nimbly leaping out of the car. The old man nodded happily as he watched Formosa look around, admiring his new home. In reality, the warrior was searching around, scanning the new arena for the next dog to try and kill him...but nothing came. He paused, and truly looked around with all his senses. The first thing he noticed was the noise...or the lack of it, no cheering humans, no barking dogs, no pounding of meaty fits or clinking of change...nothing but the twittering of peaceful birds and the occasion zoom of a passing car. He couldn't believe it, the grass underneath his pads was soft green grass, not blood-encrusted sand or dirt, but actual grass. He had heard stories, half-listened to stories about having a home or having someone caring for you, or running wild and free on grass, but Formosa never, in all his three years, thought he would actually experience something like this.

He moved around the yard, checking out every scent, looking over everything, when he came to the fence...so he was still trapped, an enclosed space...The fence wasn't too high, he could easily- Formosa whirled around, he caught the scent of another canine...was this just a different arena, and this another threat? The lean black dog lowered himself into a fighting position, ears back and tail out...he was ready.

[Malfunction]

Lars had been laying on the porch, watching as his master arrived with a black brute in the backseat. The mistress had told him a new dog was coming, that he'd have some company. She'd petted him and cooed and told him to be a good old dog, even though he always was. Lars didn't do much anymore, not anything interesting anyways. He was soaking up the sun when the car drove up and into the backyard. He grinned and stood up slowly, a knowing smile on his face. He remembered when he'd first come here, not sure if they'd be kind like everyone said a good master was. And everyone was right. The old couple were the best in the world, he couldn't think of any other human he'd rather have as his owners. They were so loving and sweet, and they always had food for him. He hadn't even known what hunger was since he'd come here. He yawned and stretched, moving down the steps at a leisurely pace. He loped down the dirt driveway and up to the gate. He whined and the master came to him, chuckling and shaking his head. "Ready to meet your new buddy, Lars?" He asked, opening the gate and letting Lars in. He quickly shut the gate again, checking behind him to make sure that Formosa wasn't going to make a run for it.

Lars laughed his doggy laugh when the new dog went into battle mode. He shook his head and trotted closer to the new male. He sniffed him and walked about in a circle, tasting the air to see if the male was any danger. Fighter dog, by the looks of it. He had scars on his body, almost as much as Lars himself did. He suspected the dogs previous owner had fought him for profit, he'd seen strays that had come from that kind of life. Lars himself had never had to fight someone unless it was important. He'd fought for females, he'd fought for pride, he'd also fought for land. He had not fought for a human and he never would. He had lived ten years now and he was happy with his life. His owners didn't fight dogs, they didn't mistreat them. He had the perfect life, now that is. When he'd been a stray life hadn't been half as wonderful. He wasn't going to think about that though.

"What's your name, tough boy? Happy to have a home?" He asked, the tone in his voice teasing and light. He was just like that. He teased people when he got to know them, because it was a way of lightening up the mood. Who wanted to meet someone and start yelling immediately? That wasn't any fun at all. No, much more fun to just be friendly and chill. He didn't need to keep up the tough guy act for pride any more. He had all he wanted in life, so he saw no more reason to start off with growls and territorial noises.

[geitz]

Formosa barred his teeth, but he truly didn't want to fight, he never wanted to fight, but he was suspicious as he let the other dog pad around him. He was old, didn't seem like one for fighting, and his voice, his whole demeanor was unsettling, it didn't seem like he could fight, whether he wanted to or not, but looks could be deceiving...Now it was his turn, the black 'Tu Go' walked around the old-timer, examining him over, getting his smell, and looking for any weaknesses. He closed his eyes, slowly coming to terms with reality. No one was going to kill him, he wasn't free, but he had independence. With a visible effort Formosa lowered his haunches, covered his teeth and stood taller.

"What's going on?" He asked, his words were acute and yet somewhat extended, as if he was choosing every word with extreme care, "Where am I? Why am I here? How...this isn't some joke?" He had so many questions, but even as he was asking them he started to piece all the facts together, filling in blanks with assumptions...He was a fighting dog, but that abruptly stopped and he was put on display...for kind-hearted humans to give them a home. If that was the case, would he never have to fight again? "A...home? This...this is a home? My home?" The word felt so awkward in his mouth, so strange, so foreign...so soothing. He looked around once more, no cages anywhere he looked, everything was peaceful and...wonderful. Could this be paradise?

[Malfunction]

He laughed as the dog showed him his teeth, shaking his old head. He could take the boy in a fight if he had to. Lars had seen his fair share of fights and was a good deal wise about fights. He knew every way to evade an attack, and he was still fairly quick for his old age. It'd be a bit of a scrap if he went at it with this new fighter dog, but he would come out OK. Lars knew that he himself didn't look to good for a fight, but looks really were deceiving. It was an advantage that he liked having, even though he didn't fight anymore.

"You're here to live. They bought you so that you could be here. Mostly for me to have a companion, they think I'm gonna run into a wall now that I'm old." He told him, laughing softly at the joke on himself. "It's our home, now. Don't worry, no ones going to kill you here. And no, this isn't a joke. Why would someone adopt you for a joke?" He asked, slightly confused. Why would someone adopt a dog just for a small joke? It didn't make any sense. Then again, the life of a fighter dog tended to make you suspicious of anything and everything, he knew a few dogs like that. "Where did you come from? I mean, what was your last home?" He asked, deciding to affirm his suspicions that this new brute was a fighter dog. He knew that he was probably right, he usually was nowadays. Those old dogs that he'd known when he was a pup were right, with age and practice, wisdom sometimes come. Of course, for some old dolts, it sometimes didn't work out that way. Sometimes with old age, insanity came. He almost wished that it was that way for him, the dogs that went that way were so humorous if they ended up in the good way. The bad ones…they were just scary.

[geitz]

Formosa found nothing funny in the matter, although he was finding it a little easier to relax. He ignored the old timer for now and went to explore. If what the other one said was true, this...was his. Or theirs really, the mixed one had happened to be here first. He was here to...help? Formosa had never helped anyone in his life, only himself...it had all only ever been for himself. But he was given a chance at life, a chance to not fight and kill...he thought he could get used to it, as long as he didn't wake up. That was a scary thought, what if he was unconscious and bleeding through a fatal wound? He didn't want to die, even if it meant going back to that life of torment. The black fighter shook himself as hard as he could, but when he opened his eyes once more, everything was as it had been, nothing had changed. He wasn't dreaming.

Formosa took his time as he explored the yard, both the front and the back. It was spacey and comfortable. There was something in the ground...it was blue. Formosa went to check it out, it was definitely in the ground, and it was filled with water. How odd, it was like a big water bowl. He dipped his paw in, just to be sure...the water rippled, it was nice and cool. 'Humans are weird
He thought, why would they need a big water dish? He turned back, he wasn't thirsty, and it was only then did he reply to the other dog. "Home?" He scoffed "My last home was a metal cage shrouded in darkness" He spat, with extreme emphasis on the word 'home'. Just thinking about it made his hackles rise.

[Malfunction]

Lars watched, quite interested, as the black dog moved around his new home. He knew that the male needed to figure everything out for himself. Lars had been quite suspicious of the old couple when he'd first came here, he had almost had to leave because of how badly he didn't trust them. He hadn't let the poor old woman touch him at all for a month, and then suddenly it hit him. This wasn't a dream. He hadn't died and was now living in a fantasy world. This was real, he'd been given a perfect place to finish out his life. His owners had been quite surprised at the change in Lars, they'd been wondering if taking him in had been the right idea. When he suddenly appeared on the end of their bed, sleeping soundly, when they woke up; well that had been a huge shock for them. They'd welcomed the change, and were glad they hadn't given up on him just yet. Imagine not having this lovable old dog that relaxed all the time and didn't worry and didn't have to run around all the time. Lars was smart too, he knew what the humans wanted him to do, and unlike other dogs, he usually did it.

He stiffened when the dog got aggressive again. He knew it wasn't at him, but rather at memories that the dog was probably reliving. All the same, he didn't like it one little bit. "Chill pill, kid. You aren't there anymore. And if you're smart, you won't be going back." He told him, his eyes knowing. The new dog would have a while to adjust to the house before the humans started to worry about if he was too big and bad. They probably wouldn't do that for a good while, because they would remember Lars's own experience adjusting to the house. And if you compared the two dogs, the new one would need a lot more time to adjust then Lars had.

[geitz]

Formosa allowed himself to relax as he came out of his reverie. He took deep breaths and once more looked around. It didn't look any less real. The peace was...disconcerting, and yet he wouldn't have it any other way. He looked over to the fence that was supposed to keep him in, remembering that it wasn't too high, but what was more, there were two trash cans by the gate. The black Taiwan dog bounded over to it and leapt onto the cans in a single bound, looking out over the edge into the surroundings. He could easily jump over and be free forever. The street went on an on, each one with a fence. He truly thought about going over into the new world, exploring until he died from old age. But he looked back at the old dog and stopped. He wasn't too old, if he wanted to leave he very well could...and yet he didn't. There had to be something about being a human's pet, rather than their slave...he'd give it a try. If he didn't like it, he could always leave.

With a slight shake and a shrug Formosa nimbly leapt down from the trash bins. He walked right up to the other dog. "Damn right I'm not going back" The words seemed like trouble but his voice was surprisingly airy, almost arrogant as he seemed to laugh it off. After a little bit he decided to check out the house itself, he trotted up the front porch steps, feeling the unfamiliar, yet not uncomfortable wood beneath his pads. "Oy! If you think you can avoid the walls, you mind giving me a tour, pops?" He asked, he was starting to get used to this, he could let himself relax and see what it was really like with 'good' humans. He waited patiently for the other canine to show him around.

[Malfunction]

He watched and waited, wondering if the other dog would make a run for it. He breathed a slight sigh of relief as the dog jumped back down, a grin coming on his features. The mistress would've been heartbroken if the new dog had run off on the first day. She just couldn't bear to think of any dog on the streets, cold, alone, hungry. That was one of the reasons she'd taken in Lars. He'd come out of a fight and passed out on her lawn, and she just hadn't been able to let him go after he got well again. And to tell the truth, by that time he wasn't sure if he really wanted to go. That was near the time that he'd started trusting them, and so he had doubted whether or not the street life really was the way to go.

He laughed and trailed behind the brute, nudging open the door with his nose. He padded over the linoleum that covered the first room, glancing over his shoulder. "And if you'll look to your right, sir, there is a cabinet." He said dryly, lifting an eyebrow. He wouldn't run into any walls, he knew that. The walls weren't a danger to him, his eye sight was perfect. Maybe the pool, if he just dashed out the house. Which wasn't likely, but all the same. He chuckled softly at the mental image that the idea conjured up. Of himself running wildly out of the house and taking a flying leap into the pool, all unknowing. He shook his head, and looked back to nod towards the next room, ready to move on.

[geitz]

Formosa faithfully followed his guide through the rooms taking it all in, getting used to the idea that this was where he would live...still, no cages! That was a wonder in itself. He literally had free roam of the house. This was far better than he ever could have hoped for in his wildest dreams, and all he had to do in return was be loved, who could ask for a better deal? Formosa paused, he went rigid, his ears twitched. He heard something, like hail on a metal roof, a little pitter pat. What was that? It didn't sound like a gate opening to release a monster hound. His curiosity forced him to follow the sound, he had to find out what it was, just to be sure it wasn't anything dangerous. He dashed around corners so fast that when he actually reached the room where the sound was coming from, he skidded quite a ways on the tile floor before he finally came to a halt, nearly slamming into the cabinets as a result.

He just stood there, watching the old man poor a scoop of pellets into a metal bowl. What in the world was he doing? Was this guy senile? Then the smell wafted over to him, it had a weird scent, but not a bad one. He approached cautiously, his nose going mad. The old man gave him a pat on the head and said something, but Formosa wasn't really listening, his whole attention was on the pellets. He tentatively gave the stuff a lick, and pulled his head back in slight surprise. It tasted weird, but it tasted like food. He had never had anything like it, before he was fed raw meat on the bone, still dripping succulent blood. This was far from real meat, but it had a flavor, more like an aftertaste...He slowly lay down with his paws around the bowl, lowered his head and commenced eating, slowly, as if to savor the moment, but also to get used to the idea of this new food. "You eat this everyday? Does it ever grow on ya?" Formosa asked the old dog. He told himself that it was alright, but he truly missed the meat. He never ate in the pound, he had some chewy bite now and again, but he refused to eat what they gave him, he didn't trust it. He wouldn't trust these pellets either if it wasn't for his fellow canine.

[Malfunction]

He laughed and followed at a much slower pace. He knew exactly what was coming, and though it did excite him at times, he knew it would still be there no matter how fast or slow he went. He had learned that things in this house didn't go away no matter how long you took. Then again, that might be because he was old. The humans let him get away with murder if his paws were hurting really bad. He approached his bowl, which was already filled, grinned up at the master, and lowered his head to feed. Unlike his younger counterpart, he ate standing up. He knew this taste well, and unlike the new dog, he trusted it. He loved the food, and he loved how the humans mixed it up sometimes. Sometimes they put chicken in there. Sometimes they put the chicken juice, which was incredibly good. He ate at a leisurely pace, one that spoke of having been in this singular position many times. He looked up when his friend spoke, grinning at him. "We eat it twice a day. Sometimes they put meat in it, or meat juice, or something that I don't know what is but tastes like heaven." He told the dog, shrugging the muscle on his shoulders in the classic human shrug.