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Post by resputin on Jul 14, 2008 18:28:19 GMT -5
Name
Resputin
Gender
Proudly intact, of the Male gender.
Age
Of three full years.
Breed
Belgian Sheepdog.
Stray or Domestic
He is to be a domestic beast.
Personality
The black sheepdog called Resputin is a cool, quick-witted creature. He is extraordinarily gifted with the correct words for any event, and thinks with speed in any situation. The large dog has a certain charm that gains the trust of most females with ease, particularly when he uses his gentler words. With this same charm, Resputin enjoys attracting the said females and tricking them into a fight - which he usually wins. Resputin also simply cannot stand small dogs, for reasons that he does not understand. He finds their typical loud-mouthed chatter annoying and would like nothing more than to crush them with a paw the size of their heads. He always keeps his cool, no matter the situation, and fails ever to become irritable.
Resputin is also fiercely loyal, despite the fact that his lies seem to blend seamlessly with the truth. The black dog would never desert any of the few friends he manages to make in their time of need, and he would do anything at all to protect the same friends. He would also lie to any dog, including these same friends, to make his situations better. The male dislikes being a pet, but he always pretends to be a “good dog” around his master, Davin Martinez.
Not only this, but he adores fights, in every sense of the word. Nothing could make this elegant creature happier than watching a tussle or getting into a scrape. He loves to pick fights with innocent bystanders simply for the pure fun and adrenaline. And of course, nothing could ever please him more than irritating others into trying to pick a fight with him. Resputin enjoys the taste of blood more than most canines; the thought of blood drives him nearly to a joyful insanity.
Among friends, however, Resputin is far more laid back. He is not quite so fierce with them, nor so calculating at their every word. He often behaves in a rather inferior manner around friends - because more often than not, they are the ones who are stronger and even fiercer than he himself. He will obey their commands, the ones that are above him in strength and irritability, and will treat friends with less strength as if he owns them. This is simply the way his brain functions - strength is the primary leader, and the primary judge, of ranking in any group situation, and it should always be so. This may be why he considers himself the master of his human, and often disobeys or does things that would, if his owner were not such an avid dog-lover, earn him quite the bad treatment.
In short, it is a combination of calm, fast thoughts, loyalty and lies, fighting and blood that create the dog called Resputin. He is not a dog to be challenged - unless, of course, the challenger wishes to face a true fight to the finish.
History
Fly stalked across the yard, umber eyes glaring at the two newborns curled into their mother's side. He looked down at them with a slight shake of his head. Only two. Two wimpy little creatures.. they would never be worth anything.
The prized show dog raised his head and glared at the stupid bitch he had been made to breed with. Svetlana, her name was. He gave a jagged nod and turned away, wondering vaguely why they had been left in the same yard. Where was his own master? He simply could not believe that Candice would simply abandon him here, in this hell hole...
The master of the home Fly currently lived in was called Harvey. Harvey was an incredible oddball, and how he had afforded to pay for Fly's stud fees or whatever else he had paid for, Fly would never understand. He seemed to be unemployed at all times - he didn't do anything work-related inside the shack that he called a house - he never even cleaned the yard. Why! the place where Fly and Svetlana made their home was nothing more than a rounded patch of dirt.
Speak of the devil, thought Fly, as the robust, hairy man exploded from the house with a tremble of whiskers and a shake of stringy hair. He tilted his head calmly, recieving a hurried pat and a touch of grease as the master rushed across the yard. Fly turned, sitting quietly, merely watching as the man squatted over with his great harvest moon quite plain in the air. A look of disgust crossed the male's face as he listened at a distance for the names of his children.
Not that he cared, of course, but their names were Resputin and Taviun. The father scrunched his muzzle in disgust. What kind of names were those? Then again, Harvey had been the one to name Svetlana. When he had first come here, Fly had found himself utterly incapable of saying that name.
Finally, the arse of the century went down and its owner staggered back inside, slamming the door shut behind him. Fly looked to Svetlana with a chuckle. Naturally, she would have had his large, hairy chest - though in a thin, greasy shirt - swinging in her face. She looked thouroughly disgusted and had a protective leg over the small pups. Fly turned and curled into the corner of the yard, pretending to be asleep, but sneaking glances at the pups anyways.
The first memory that young Resputin would ever have is that of opening his eyes. Naturally, when such a momentous event should take place, the beached-whale figure of his master had to be leaning over him. The scents of grease and dirt and human body odor leaked into Resputin's young nose and caused him to jump backwards into his mother's protective figure in fear. Harvey had been feeding Svetlana, for the female had had a rough birthing and had not been walking well. Though he was unawares to it, Resputin and his sister had been born alongside three stillborn pups. Quite the tragedy, particularly to Svetlana, and particularly to the poor fat man who had paid the bill to get those pups in the first place.
Resputin and Taviun were inseperable in those few weeks they shared together. They did what romping was possible in such a bleak, filthy backyard. Fly simply watched, not wanting to become attached to the pups, though in his heart he could not help but care for them. Svetlana, however, as her legs began to walk again, joyfully joined in their games. She would look up to invite Fly, a joyous grin on her muzzle, and he would watch it fall as he gave her the coldest of glares.
And then came the selling. Fat ol' Harvey stampeded into the backyard, leading a stately blond woman in a crimson business dress with thickly rimmed glasses. She peered down at the pups, the snivelling walrus of a man standing to one side and watching her with beady eyes. The lady picked up Resputin, who grinned at her and swatted at her funny looking glasses. She glared meanly at the pup and set him roughly back upon the ground. Taviun, the calmer runt pup, watched with only mild interest. The woman picked up Taviun too, staring blankly into the little female's light brown eyes. The black female pup did not move an inch.
"This one, then," she said finally. And then, the humans turned, deserting Resputin. Resputin raced to the back door, clambering up the shoddy wooden steps, and began scratching fearfully at the door. They had stolen his sister!
"Momma!" yelped the young male, turning to look at his mother for help. But she was inside the doghouse, with her rump sticking out. What in the world was wrong with her? He looked slowly to Fly's corner. He had scarcely ever spoken to Fly, and vice versa, but he knew that Fly was his father.
"F-father?" he said with a tremulous voice, silver eyes pleading. Fly stared blankly at him, then rose to his paws to move towards his son. Gently, the older male raised the pup in his mouth and retreated to the corner. He deposited Resputin on the earth and sat in front of him, looking down at Resputin with an understanding expression.
"There's no way to get Taviun back," he said gently. Resputin stared at him, not understanding in the slightest.
"Why not? Where'd they take her, why'd they take her?"
Fly sighed, raising a smile to his muzzle at the little pup. "That woman was a dog handler. I.. I used to.. to be her dog," he said softly, lowering his head in shame. She had not asked about him.. she had not even glanced in his direction... "She came to get Taviun, to raise her as a show dog. I suppose that I had reached my limit," he said with a heavy sigh. Now he understood.. perhaps she had searched through every Belgian Sheepdog around and discovered Svetlana. Maybe it had not been a stud fee, but rather, a bitch fee. And of course, with the other dogs in her home like Twist, the jack russell, and Freedom, the german shepherd - Fly's best friend - what need did she have for him, the star who had reached his limit?
Resputin observed his father quietly. He really was just a normal dog, after all.. he felt pain too. Resputin had always thought of his father as some great, godly dog for his silence and powerful structure.
"D-dad?" Resputin said carefully, testing the word. Resputin raised his head, looking down at his son through testy umber eyes. "Why did she pick Taviun insteada me?"
"You moved during her test. Taviun just hung there, limp and silent, and didn't break eye contact. The makings of a champion," he said with a gentle smile. He licked the top of Resputin's head. "Now go comfort your mother," he said sharply, nudging Resputin away. Their only tender moment together was over. Fly simply could not handle emotions like that.
Only a few days later, a young man with shaggy black hair entered the backyard. He wore dark jeans and a purple shirt. He seemed likable, as well. The man made a beeline for Svetlana, not Resputin, however. The pup stared in confusion, and glanced to his father. Fly shrugged, eyes wide in similar confusion as the man squatted down to pet the female. After several minutes of stroking and whispering what must have been sweet words - for her tail was beating frantically throughout the encounter and she tried licking his face over and over, often succeeding - the man stood up and turned to Resputin. He sat down on the ground, patting his legs for Resputin to come to him, rather than picking him up so rudely as Fly's woman had done.
Resputin jumped towards him, a goofy smile upon his muzzle as he licked the man's neck and proceeded to crawl all over him. The man merely laughed. Fly watched with a sorrowful expression from the corner of the yard and sighed. He had told himself that he wouldn't get attached, but..
At long last, the man rose, cradling Resputin gently in his arms.
"I'll take him," he said happily to Harvey. The blustering walrus-man took a wad of green bills from the younger man's hand. "Resputin's his name, right?"
"Yeah, but you could rename 'im," the man grumbled, not paying the slightest of attention as he counted the stack of tens and twenties. Thus, he missed the shocked look upon his face.
"Rename him? After he's come to know his name? Never," he said, shaking his head. Still carrying Resputin, he began to head for the door - the pup watched his mother and his father sadly over his shoulder.
"I love you, Resp!" barked Fly suddenly, jumping towards the stairs as the door closed behind them. "I love you too, Dad," the pup whispered. His new man, hearing only whimpers, scratched the black pup's head comfortingly.
"It's okay to miss them, Respy," he said as they reached the shiny, silver car, having crossed through the dilapidated shack thankfully unharmed. He smiled, rubbing the pup's head gently. "But you better not miss that Harvey guy, you hear me? He stinks like a rotten banana." The man held his nose with two fingers in a comical manner, causing a passing couple with a baby stroller to strain their necks to see whom he was talking to, expecting an infant to compliment, but - seeing only a small, black puppy.
As the first year of Resputin's life grew on, he came to adore his new home and his new master - Davin Martinez - quite as much, if not more, as he did he father and mother and dirty backyard. Why, that life was so far in the past now, he could scarcely remember the names of his family. His family now was only Davin.
Davin was a strange human, as far as Resputin could tell. The neighbors often looked at him funny, perhaps because he took Resputin with him everywhere but to work, perhaps because he took the dog for two walks a day, perhaps because on every Friday, upon returning home from work, his arms were filled with those fancy gourmet dog treats that come from little shacks at the mall. Such a life kept Resputin pleased with Davin, but despite its incredible luxuries, Resputin was becoming bored with being a pet. Certainly, he loved his owner, and the way he simply waved it off if Resputin did anything wrong. Resputin was coming to look at the situation as if he were Davin's master, rather than the other way around. Davin worked to fulfill Resputin's every need, no matter what it may be.
One day, around the male first birthday, he left through the doggy door and wandered about in the backyard, trying to figure out a way of escaping. He paced back and forth, not quite understanding what to do, until a simple latch caught his intelligent silver eyes. The male rushed to it, nudging the latch up and out of its hold with his charcoal nose. A victorious smile lighting up his proud features, he pushed the simple gate open and trotted freely down the street, long, clean black fur flowing elegantly. How good it felt, to be constricted by the fence no longer! He wagged his lowset tail happily, pink tongue lolling out.
"You! You! Why are you out! What's your PROBLEM, huh bub! Whatta you doin!"
Narrowing his eyes and retracting his tongue, Resputin turned to see where the voice came from. A stupid little Yorkie. Little dogs deserved no respect - they had no strength.
"Lemme out, then! HUH bub! Can't do it can ya! Haha!" The Yorkie seemed to have simply no idea that he was talking to a dog about ten times his size.
Resputin glanced around at the fence, and quickly located the gate. He gave it a testy shove - aha. Little dogs escaping were most likely not an issue. Pushing the gate open, he turned to the little dog, a sickening grin creeping across his maw as he lunged forward and sent it to its end.
Afterwards, Resputin raced home, fearful that Davin may arrive at any moments, and cleaned his muzzle by rubbing it upon the grass. But that taste of blood.. oh.. it was like the first sip of alcohol for a future alcolholic. He just had to do it again. And thus was born Resputin's joy in fights and unjust murders.
From that day onward, the tradition continued. Resputin became a bad myth in his area - little dogs feared him, for they were his number one target. One day, upon aiming at a Pomeranian, Resputin found himself faced with a large German Shepherd who lived with the little dog, and who was more than willing to fight Resputin to protect him. A vicious fight ensued, leaving a scar across Resputin's right eye, but finally leaving the Shepherd dead. As the finishing touch, Resputin murdered the now-helpless Pomeranian as well, retreating to his home. He prayed that Davin would not connect the two murders so far away with his dog's fresh cut, because the discovery of dead dogs always stirred the public's interest.
Davin did indeed connect the cut and the attack. He had noticed that the gate had been open every day when he came home, and had become increasingly worried that his memory was slipping. But now.. with all the little dog murders, and finally this, not to mention the cut across Resputin's eye, Davin knew what was happening.
They stayed in that home only for a few more weeks before they began moving out of it. They were going to transfer their home to a place called Harlow, where Davin had thankfully been offered a job. It gave him a good excuse to take Resputin away from all the small dogs of the area.
The move was strange to Resputin. He watched out of the silver car's window as all of the familiar sights of their upper class neighborhood disappeared, as they clambered onto highways and things of the sort. Finally, they arrived at their new home in Harlow - Resputin was nearly three.
Where will Resputin's life lead in this new place? Will he be the same lethal, secretive murderer he was in his old town? Or will he be something of another caliber? Only time will tell.
Other
Resputin’s eyes are a bright silver, like those of his mother. He also has a dark red, thin, vertical scar across his right eye.
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