The Fire Horse (On Hold)

Chapter 1000,5479.2.5

My head blares with uncomfort and my shirt is sticky with sweat. I slide out of his plush warm bed and raid the top drawer of his scratched dresser. I pull out a red T-shirt with some sort of yellow faded design in the middle and what once could've been lettering. The fabric is cool on my skin and comes down to mid thigh. My legs are bare apart from black shorts. Theres marks on my lower calves from my half chaps. A crisp barking interupts my wanderig thoughts. I make my way down the hall and find the source of the delightful sounds.

Intrigued, I turn the doorknob. The smell of the room hits me first-wet dog. Its a wonderful thing really. Its an announcing odor. It jumps right into your face, much like this Newfoundlander who is in fact quite springy. A laugh escapes my mouth as I topple to the ground. My face drips with slobber as a wet tongue laps over the tanned skin. I rub long brown fur on the dogs ruff and he lets me to my feet. I examine the canine. He has a masculine face, complete with a broad muzzle, wide shoulders and monstrous paws. His scarlet tongue lolls out of his mouth in happiness. I scan the room for another, feeling its presence. An older white female lays on the rug. She squints open her eyes to look at me before closing them again. Her silky tail wraps around herself and the sun beats down on her pelt. Grey hair built up around her muzzle and paws.

I make small cooing noises and pet her back in soft strokes until a yelp interrupts. The elderly dog barely flinches yet the Newfoundlander cocks his head. I slide unnder an unmade bed to see a delicate pup trapped between the supportive boards. He cries again out o distress and I gently pull him out. His fur is soft but frigid and his features fragile. He nuzzles into my chest and I warm him in my arms. The other male runs out of the open door, I folow him into a kitchen. Theres wide marble countertops and tall island chairs. The male stares at a cabnit close to him with a whimper. I open it willingly and he dives for a bag of dog food. He's surprisingly neat with his mouthfuls. I worry enough to search for a bowl and fill it with kibble. I set the pup down briefly to complete the task. He crawls over to me in lonesome. I slide my hand across the tiled floor and watch him pounce on it.

I admire his short tan coat. He has a white tuxedo line on his back that leads into a whit underbelly and cream stripe down his face. He soon tires and lays on my feet with heavy breathes. He nuzzles in until hes comfortable enough to doze off. The other male follows the puppies lead and sleeps as well. First I must make it clear to him that I have no more feet for him to sleep on and my face is not an option.