UDCFR

Chapter 1

To some, it is strange to see a talking dog in everyday life. But to Hunter, this is normal. In fact, Hunter is a talking dog. The Doberman walks down the sidewalk in a quiet, suburban neighborhood. He appreciates how everyone here are nice neighbors. Everyone has vibrant colored houses. Every house has a unique color to it. Each house has a different smell as Hunter passes by. The smell of bacon and eggs from one house and the odor of paint and wood from another house. The noise of the couple renovating their house adds noise to the quiet atmosphere, but Hunter doesn't mind. Hunter is happy to live in such a peaceful place.

Hunter arrives at the corner of two streets with a tall stop sign. The sign is facing Hunter's direction. He sits under the stop sign, waiting for his ride. As Hunter sits there, the autumn sun beats down on his black fur head, shiny from the bath he had. Despite working at the recycling center next to the city dump, Hunter likes to be clean and looks forward to his evening bath every day. Hunter is wearing a tight, green vest with the recycling sign on his chest. It matches his pale green eyes. He is also wearing dog sized black jeans, which is standard for working dogs since they began to talk.

The sound of a heavy engine splits the quiet air of the morning. A large recycling truck rolls up to the stop sign. Hunter backs up as the truck comes to a stop.

"Morning down there." Says the driver. He is a close human friend of Hunter. A broad, burley, thick bearded man with arms thick as tree trunks. Hunter hops into the passenger seat.

"Good morning to you too, Hank." Hunter says as he puts his seat belt on. It is harder for Hunter to put on a seat belt with paws, but he gets better at it every time.

"Well, get ready for a long day," Hank presses his boot into the gas pedal, "the boss told me we have an overflow of recycling items today."

"Alright, can't wait." Hunter says with sarcasm. Hunter doesn't enjoy long days at work when recycling backs up, but it has its moments when interesting items come in. If he's lucky, the boss will let Hunter keep some of the stuff. Hunter is into tinkering and making tools and gadgets to help him in place of hands. Without hands, tinkering and creating are harder tenfold. However, with the willpower to learn the required skills and an intelligent mind, Hunter is able to work around the physical setbacks. As the truck moves down the road, Hunter remembers a bit of news that worried him.

"How's Stephen doing?" Hunter asks Hank

"Unfortunately, his leg injury doesn't look too good. He won't be able to work with us anymore." Hank's expression lowers as he tells Hunter. Hank and Stephen are childhood friends.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Hunter says with a low voice. "Who will fill in for Stephen?"

Hank thinks for a moment, then says with a sigh, "Maybe the boss will transfer someone over to the recycling compactors."

"But then wherever he moves the person from, that department will have one less person."

"Maybe someone's looking to get a job here. We'll find out when we get there."

A few minutes later, they arrive at the recycling center. Hank steers the truck towards a booth with a gate arm. After showing his ID to the woman in the booth, she raises the gate arm to let Hank into the recycling yard. The yard is void of any grass. Nothing but a flat, hard surface of concrete. There is a row of buildings on the opposite side of the entrance. Those buildings have the compactors, the bins of water sensitive recycling, and a break room.

On the left side of the yard are large metal bins in a neat row. These bins are full of metal, wood, plastic, and other recycled items. The only restroom around is one isolated port potty in the corner of the yard. The boss complains of having one port potty, but never orders more.

Hunter's least favorite thing about the recycling center is the enormous trash mound of the dump, right behind the yard. It puts off a pungent odor, infiltrating his nostrils while he works. Hunter has been working at the recycling center for four years, and the smell of rotting garbage is still so strong he can almost taste it in his mouth. That smell is something Hunter will never get used to.

Hank parks the truck in front of a wide funnel. He then pushes a button to open the back compartment of the truck. The back of the truck lifts up, and the recycling compartment opens, pouring all of the recycling into the funnel. The funnel leads to a conveyor belt inside, where the recycling gets sorted. That is where Hunter works. Hunter and Hank get out of the truck and walk over to the office between the breakroom and the compactors. Hank knocks on the door.

"Come in!" A loud, yet friendly voice calls from inside.

Hank opens the door. The two enter to see the boss, sitting at his computer while sipping coffee.

"Good morning, Mr. Frisk." Hank says, "Finished my route and offloaded the recycling."

"Good morning to you too, Hank, and thank you." Mr. Frisk looks towards the two, "Hunter, how are you?"

"Doing good, sir." Hunter says, "Hank told me we have a lot of recycling to do today."

"That's right." Mr. Frisk said, setting his coffee down. Hunter can smell the strong scent of in his breath. Mr. Frisk looks back at his computer and starts typing.

"Someone didn't do their job offloading one of their truck last week. It wasn't discovered until last night." Hunter knows Mr. Frisk gets irked by this.

Mr. Frisk continues, "I'm going to have a stern word with whoever was responsible. Sorry to put more work on your department, Hunter."

"It's okay, I can handle it." Hunter says, disappointed once again to hear he has more work today.

"Hank, I already have someone who will take Stephen's place by tomorrow. So today, I need you to fill in for Stephen." Mr. Frisk says, shifting schedules around on the computer.

"That is all, thank you." Mr. Frisk says. Hank thanks Mr. Frisk, then turns to leave. Hunter turns to leave as well.

"Wait, Hunter," Mr. Frisk says, "I got news for you."
Hunter stops and turns to Mr. Frisk.

"The person transferring is leaving your department, leaving a spot open for one of our new hires." This peaks Hunter's interest.

"Who are you hiring?"

"By tomorrow, you will no longer be the only dog working in this recycling yard."

Hunter's stub of a tail wags at the news, "That's amazing! Who is he?"

Mr. Frisk, still in his chair, types on the computer, "His name is Indiana, and he's a mixed breed."

Mr. Frisk's eyes narrow at the computer, "He's grey with pointed ears. I'm guessing a mix between..." Mr. Frisk goes silent. He always goes quiet when deep in thought. Hunter gets uncomfortable in the awkward silence.
"
Um, sir, can I see the picture?"

Mr. Frisk shakes his head as if coming out of a trance, "He's a mix between a dog and another dog, I don't know."
He turns the computer around to reveal a picture of a grey, pointed eared mix breed with dark grey eye patched around his eyes.

"He will be here by tomorrow. I'm certain you two will be great working together." Mr. Frisk picks up his coffee and takes one more sip, "Now, you may leave."

Hunter exits the office and heads off to work, excited for his canine coworker.

All characters featured in this chapter are owned by me.