Savage?

Four

From then on I had a fight daily, sometimes even twice in one night. However they were no match for me. They fought because they had been beaten, made aggressive by big sticks and small ropes. I fought because it gave me a thrill I couldn't experience anywhere else. I loved striking the first blood, and slicing the one vein that meant the certain death of my enemy.

It would take me too long to regale to you all my fights, so I suppose I will just cover the most memorable.

During my first year in the ring, I fought dogs all my size, but then I started getting new combinations of opponents. My first large opponent was a Doberman. I remember my head being at only his shoulder as we circled, but I was never one to delay to think. I leapt in, driving my teeth into his back leg. He snatched his leg back and I jumped back to evade his teeth. The sound of them snapping rang in my ears as I tore at his stomach. He stepped back, swaying a bit. Blood was dripping from the multiple wounds I had inflicted. I cried out in pain as a beer bottle smashed into my side. I guess the cry had given the Doberman a new energy, so he lunged at me and knocked me over. This was the first time any opponent of mine had ever gotten the upper hand. I was enraged, I clawed myself to my feet, but he was ahead. He snapped at my neck, but I ducked just enough so he just latched onto my jaw. I yanked back and pain almost made me black out. I could feel loose skin and blood pouring.  However, it caused the Doberman to let go, so I ripped his throat out while he was at my level. I glanced up at Master, but he wouldn't meet my gaze. It did not trouble me though, because at that moment everything went black and I hit the ground.

That fight taught me two major ideals of fighting. Never cry out, and never get off your feet. I had certainly defied death when I was knocked onto the ground, but at the time it hadn't troubled me at the time. I was never one to brood.

When I finally came to, I was in a bright room that smelled of chemicals, laying on a cool metal table.  I had never been in such a well lit room. Master was beside me, his palm on my side. The physical contact made me a bit uncomfortable, but I would not dare bite him. It was not that I had a love for him, I had yet to know any love. I respected him more than anyone else.  I realized why he was touching me. On the other side of the room was a pale woman with long blonde hair.  I disliked her already, and I started to growl at her. Master pressed down on my side and I understood.  He rarely stopped me from doing anything, and so I respected his wishes and laid passively.

The blonde woman smiled, awe showing in her eyes. "I've never seen any dog take cues so easily, she most really love you."

Master smiled, but I knew him well enough to know it was fake.  

"How did you say this happened again." I choked back a growl as the woman traced what I realized were stitches in my jaw. I was momentarily proud that Master cared enough for me to take me to a professional. Most fight dogs, wounded as I had been, were just stitched up by one of the kitchen ladies. The less valuable dogs were left to die.

Master's smile twitched. "She was attacked by a street mutt when I let her out in my yard. "

"Where do you live? You need to report any strays."

"On the east side. And I will. Anyway, thank you Mrs. Jordy. We will be back if my Pumpkin needs anymore help." He was uncomfortable I could tell.

The blonde woman nodded, and she bit her lip. Her eyes scanned him and she looked like she wanted to say something else, but she shook it off.  "Of course, have a nice day."

With great care Master scooped me up. He carried me out and have me the first car ride I had ever received.  He talked to me as we drove back. "You cost me a lot of money girl, but I know you are special. You don't see this kind of enthusiasm every day.  You better make me proud."

The next fight that made an impression on me was a gang fight. Later during my first year they decided I was skilled enough to take on two dogs at once. I never knew how they trained the dogs to only attack me and not each other, but again I didn't put much thought to anything.

The scar on my jaw had become a trophy, it was evidence I was better than the rest. When I entered the ring I positioned my head so the dim light highlighted it. Held back by ropes from men in the crowd were two pit bulls, one black and one brindle.

I growled and bristled at them from where I stood. The gunshot banged and the ropes were dropped. They both made a beeline for me so I sidestepped and watched them crash together. I took the opportunity to snatch the black one back by his scruff. The momentum from both the crash and my tug sent him flying into the wall. He dropped like a fly, passed out. The brindle latched onto me from behind and I snarled, whipping to face him. I struck at his shoulder as fast I could, but I wasn't fast enough. I had ripped his shoulder, but as I pulled back he grabbed my scruff. I lowered my head and drove it into his chest, knocking the air out of him. He croaked as he tried to regain his composure and I backed him against the crude wall. He lashed out but I blocked him with my own teeth. Snarling, he stood on his hind legs to intimidate me. Ha. In one fluid motion I used my sharp canines to cut through the soft skin of his stomach. The result was one clean cut, through which ribs and organs were visible. He collapsed to the ground, blood pouring out of him. I turned to the crowd and their cheering filled me. I opened my maw in a silent laugh and they exploded. The smell of alcohol filled the air as they toasted and the losers drank away the money they had left.

Suddenly a gasp arose in the crowd and I instinctively tilted my head a little. It didn't take me long to figure out was had happened. Teeth dug into my tail, my prized tail! I lurched forward before spinning around to behold the black pit bull. A snarl filled me as I flew at him. Fear shined in his eyes as I ripped out his throat. After throwing dust on the bodies of both dogs, I stepped back to truly take my victory.

Another ideal of fighting was instilled in me. Don't count your chickens before they hatch.