Little Miss Hellhound (NaNoWriMo 2022)

Chapter 7

I can't believe they actually entered me! What the hell is wrong with them? Do they want to lose this stupid contest? If Begal's little freak out was anything to go on, they've been on a losing streak and they want to add another to the mix. I thought this was gonna be an easy two weeks. Sit down. Eat some high quality dog food (and sneak plenty of regular food to remind me of better days) and watch Begal do her thing. Instead, here I am, outside at 6am sharp going for a light jog. I was with a few of the other dogs from the pen. Begal wasn't one of them. She was having her fur groomed and her teeth looked at. I guess the Bradleys noticed my teeth and fur are perfect, save for the bath they gave me right when they woke up. Pleasant. At least it's warm outside, even this early in the morning. Too early. The mastiff was here at least. And he could really keep pace, surprisingly. He was even ahead of me. The jog was nothing to me. I was given a body like this and had a perfectly toned one from my spin classes, so cardio doesn't scare me like it does others. Some of the smaller terriers were here, too. One in particular caught my eye, though. A handsome looking beagle. He looked just like Begal, but larger. His nails were perfectly trimmed to make the least audible click on the side walks. The black patches of fur matched the same amount as the white, and the brown in his fur looked just like the lattes I ordered (I would've named him Mochachino if he were my dog). The way he walked, and the way he mingled with the other dogs while we were all being leashed up was impressive, even by show dog standards. I heard from the others he was the favored one to win. The dog that stupid german shepard was talking about last night, the companion dog from her handler: Call Back. I did think his name was kind of cool. Certainly better than Makeme. Spicey Bite is kind of nice, too. But Call Back is a cool name for a cool dog. I shouldn't be rooting for him, but if Begal wasn't in this competition, I'd be rooting for him. Don't expect me to comment on his appearance, though. He's all over the other lady dogs. Reminds me of the worst guys at the bars. Not the ones doing mental gymnastics to try and pick up a girl out of their league, but the ones who just go for a little bit of everything. A little bit of dancing, a bit of drinking, hanging out with guy friends, hanging out with girls, hitting on girls all night, trying to get blackout drunk, everything possible to go home with someone. People like him try too hard. But it always seems to work. That's who Call Back reminded me of. Or it could've just been his name, now that I think about it.

The sun was barely up, but it was pretty warm anyway. Typical desert weather. We were being jogged around a private area of the hotel. There was a footpath down the middle made of stone but painted black, leading to a central fountain. The fountain was made of the same marble as the walls, or fake marble I assumed. It looked classy enough without all that gold trim the inside walls had. Several layers high, spraying water all over the place, specifically a surrounding bed of shrubs. Around the fountain was a generous space and some benches. A few people were on them, wearing sunglasses and gripping coffee, tea, water, or whatever hangover cure they'd managed to cook up here. There were others going for a run around the surprisingly large sized park. The whole back area was hidden from traffic or the street level by tall and thick hedges that blocked out most of the sound of the city. There were grass lots, a single play structure with no kids on it, and half the park was dedicated to a soccer field. Though it also had small goal posts attached to the nets if anyone, for some strange reason, wanted to play football out here. It was like our building in SF, but with more space in the back. Closest I felt like to home since telling those show dogs off last night. But I did sleep well, eat well this morning. For a dog. Some of the others were flapping their tongues about and struggling to run against their fur bits. The poodle was in another group being run by another staff worker. Makeme. I still think it's a stupid name. We passed each other's groups without so much as a hello bark. These dogs are focusing. Even the poodle. A lot of them did take a glance at Call Back, though, as we passed. He seems to really be the favored. When our group paused for a break, the handler whipped out his phone and started texting. The dogs were all told to stay put as he clipped the leash holders to a pole, letting the slack go as far as it could so we could roam away from each other. Except for me. I went right next to that beagle.