Pixie and Brutus.. and the dog next door.

FIVE : 'Scraps'

''I'm not answering that, stop looking at me like that,'' I snapped, standing up. I almost- note the almost- stumbled over my words, the pressure a little flustering. I could answer, but over my dead body would I say it aloud. They were both good-looking, perhaps I'm biased being both a German Shepard and ex-MWD, but I'd have to say Brutus would win my favour in that regard. I shook my head and walked away from them, in disbelief at my own thoughts.

I could hear the both of them picking up conversation- or an argument- again as I left, though paid no mind to their words. I found a nice shaded area with view of the garden and settled besides the foliage and flowers.

It wasn't long until someone joined me in the shade. I would have guessed it to be Dexter, though my senses told me it was Brutus. I opened my eyes and glanced towards him. He was watching the others dogs frolicking at the other end of the garden.

My thoughts were interrupted when he met my gaze. ''How long did you serve for?'' He asked quietly, looking forward again. No greeting, but then again I suppose however you start the conversation it's a tense question.

I sighed, following his gaze to the younger dogs prancing around Mr. Wrinkles. ''The last three years.'' I answered. I was bred in the military, so spent the first two years of my life in training, the following three on duty- which led up to now. ''You?'' I gathered he was also a MWD by the conversation with Pixie through the fence, and the scars over his face- they aren't something a typical family pet would acquire.

''My whole life.'' He answered plainly.

''Why are you here?'' I asked hesitantly. It was one of those questions that could have so many answers, and you've no clue if it'll be terrible or perhaps good. I doubted it was the latter.

''My handler was,'' he paused for only a few seconds at most, but I didn't miss the way his brows creased ever so slightly and his eyes contorted as his nightmares of the past returned to taunt him, ''killed in action.'' He finished. Despite the way I could see it hurt him, he didn't drift from his usual, calm tone or relaxed posture.

''Me too,'' I breathed. There was no point consoling one another. One thing you learn in the military is that there's no point dwelling on the past. If you even so glance behind you it could be the difference between life and death.

''Is it still strange? Being a pet,'' I asked. I was adjusting slowly, but each day I still wake and forget where I am.

''You'll get used to it. They're the strangest part,'' he joked, motioning towards the frolicking dogs. I've rarely been around younger or many non-military dogs, so it is quite an odd sight.

''Mhm,'' I hummed and chuckled. ''You know, I've never met a Saint Bernard before this day.'' Henry, said dog, was lounging in the shade against a fence. And I must admit, the size and width of the breed was more intimidating than I had imagined.

''Well, Backpack's the worst of em,'' Brutus motioned to Dexter, and I emitted a short laugh. Their ongoing feud was quite amusing to say the least. I'll have to ask sometime how Dexter got that name.

I chuffed, casting him a smile. ''For what it's worth, you're prettier. And us German Shepards are far superior to Malinios.''

He laughed, shaking his head. Brutus stood up, glancing towards where our masters gathered. The smell of barbeque meat was mouth-watering now I pay attention to it. I followed him and rose to my paws, ''That does smell good.''

''Come on then,'' he wandered towards the food, and I followed behind, ''Keep up, Limpy,'' he teased.

I scoffed at the nickname, picking up the pace to catch him up. When I did so, I snapped at his side, chuckling when he glanced at me in surprise. ''You want a limp, Bruty?'' I teased, casting him a smirk.

''You're lucky I don't fight the injured, or you'd have it,'' he grinned in return.

''Sure thing, Bruty. I'll hold you to that, you just wait,'' I nudged into his shoulder- with my uninjured one- and wandered through the seating on the patio, Brutus following behind me.

I found Carl on one of the sofas, a plate on his lap with plenty of spare scraps I'm sure he doesn't need. Carl laughed, reaching out and petting my head as I put my head on his knees. ''Oh you're hungry are you?'' He gave me a chunk of steak. Human food tastes so much better. Brutus got a chunk too, to which I shuffled in front of him for. ''Robin,'' Carl fussed, ''Poor Brutus.''

We both got half of a sausage thrown to us. I almost lost mine to a brown Labrador whom I'd never met. The audacity? Brutus and I growled towards him, and he seemingly got the message and got lost. Apparently Brutus thinks he's the only one who can steal my food. Arse.

A couple (hundred) scraps later, everyone was starting to leave. It was still daylight hours, but the raging heat the afternoon brought had settled down. The blue over the horizon had faded to a gentle purple, and the moon was visible. I had said goodbye to a few whom left before, and now Carl was clipping a lead to my collar. I was looking forward to a long sleep on the sofa.