What it Means to Have You

Soap

"Come on, boy! Time to get a nice bath!"

Just kill me now.

I groaned when his words met my ears. They were far too happy for how early it must have been. Don't kids like sleeping in on the weekend? My eyes lazily slid over until they landed on the tiny clock situated on his bedside table. It was flashing seven o'clock.

You've got to be kidding me.

Before I could protest and dig my way under his old, slightly torn blanket, he had my leash back around my neck, after having removed it before I fell asleep, and was tugging me right off the bed.

"It's okay. I actually volunteer at the local Humane Society so I'm used to grooming animals. Especially ones that don't want to be groomed."

When he said that last part, he was smirking down at me, a look in his eyes that seemed disturbingly out of place. Sensing that I would regret trying to fight this battle, I silently let him lead me into the bathroom. Miguel literally had to get up onto the old counter so that I could get into the tub. The counter creaked with his weight and would have likely crumbled if I nudged it at all with him on it. It was a tempting thought. He probably realized what I was thinking because he quickly hopped off the counter and shut the door, though I noted that it just began to open again, the latch obviously broken.

"Alright, boy. Let's get this done so that Mom doesn't get mad about you stinking up the house," he said, not bothering to look at me as he got the ancient fixtures on the tub turned. It took awhile for water to actually come out, and when it did, I rolled my eyes at the fact that it was far from hot.

"Sorry, no hot water. You'll get used to it."

My ears pinned back to response to his words, but he just poured a waterfall of cold water over my face using an old rusty pot, ignoring my annoyance. My fur was thick enough so that I didn't really feel the temperature that badly, but when he began scrubbing at my skin, I wanted to tear his arms off. It was an aggressive thought, even for me, and especially considering the situation. I figured out that it had come from my wolf. Because he was uncomfortable being touched by anyone besides... My eyes narrowed and I growled at the wall in front of my nose. The flaking paint almost seemed to minutely peel away in fear.

It took me a moment to notice that Miguel's hands had stopped scrubbing an odd smelling soap into my coat and he was now eying me hesitantly. He didn't really look scared so much as careful. I'd be careful around me, too, if I were him. After my history, hell, I'd put me down. A harsh pain shot through my mind immediately, making me whimper like a frightened pup. Nagol? It caught me off guard so badly that I was now shaking from the aftershock as the pain drifted away. It couldn't have been him.

I expected Miguel to back off after that since he'd already stopped washing me, but when his arms slid around my neck and wrapped me in a hug, I blanked. It had never happened before. The hug, yes. Being unable to react to it and just having your mind wiped clear in an instant? No.

"Don't worry, boy. Everything will be okay," Miguel whispered into my soaked coat, his voice shaky with emotion. I tilted my head, rubbing my muzzle along his hair as I whined. You don't know that. He shouldn't have understood, and honestly, he likely didn't. Except, after a quiet moment just letting the water run as background noise, he leaned back just enough to rest his forehead against my own and smiled sadly, our eyes meeting.

"You can trust me. I don't know why you were in that alley or what happened to you before that, but I promise I'll do everything I can to make sure you have the best life."