Tastes Like Ash

The History of K9 Familiars

You know what is a bright spot on the internet? The WeRateDogs twitter.

We've talked about bats before, and it even became a joke between Carrie, Erza, and I that– well I'll show you the doodles. Readers have drawn me before, and today I'm this charming stick figure. (Doodles by jayleejames!)

Hat, bow tie, and fangs. What else do you need? If you haven't picked up this week's theme yet, the answer is pets. Here's a proposed kitchen helper.

To be honest, if this was a full comic stripe I think the bat would steal the show. Imagine this a small guy getting flour all over the kitchen, bumping into things as he flies too quickly over to the oven and knocks off his chef's hat.

I digress. Bats are the go to for vampires, and cats the obvious choice for a witch's familiar. History, however, is rarely so obvious.

We'd like to think that dog's as we know them have dated back as long as we've been here. But that likely isn't so. The belief is that oldest modern breeds only date back 500 years, and most aren't even half of that. 20,000 years ago and there might not have even been anything even identifiable as "dog". But since that time we've been rating and raving over them. One thing is for sure, human and canine history has always crossed paths.

It was a cool, nearly rainy day when my hand pulled away from Carrie's as I heard something. I asked if she could hear it, but it seemed to high pitched for her. I followed the sound towards a set of dumpsters discretely hidden between two shopping strips. Thankfully a sense of smell wasn't needed to see a small crate placed next to the trash as if offering it to someone instead of fully committing.

Carrie rushed ahead as I was still taken back. I've seen that done with computer parts and various other goods before, but this time it wasn't particularly well thought out.

"Hey buddy, I'm gonna let you out, okay?" Carrie cooed as she opened the crate. The puppy was hesitant towards his paranormal rescuers. His eyes almost as big as the large chocolate colored spot across his nose, which he stuck out to smell Carrie's hand before venturing further.

"What sort of monster leaves an animal like that?" I asked, not actually looking for an answer as I pulled out my bottle of coconut water. Since we didn't have a bowl Carrie pooled her hands to stand in for one. Thankfully, the pup wasn't as picky as Ezra was.

"The human kind," Carrie said bitterly as she shook her hands dry and stood up. "What do we do with him?"

I must have been a few steps ahead of her thoughts because she looked puzzled when I answered. "We should call him Prince Rupert."

The comment would have made more sense if she knew I already planned on keeping the wayward animal. A cage was proof that he wasn't lost. The name came from the most well-known owner of a dog familiar. Besides possibly Artemis herself.

That dog's name was Boye, but the patchwork pup now in Carrie's arms was too colorful to match that historic white poodle. It was also too soon to known if our new pet would join us in a battle akin to the English Civil War, catch bullets, or give prophecies.

We can't know how long ago the abandonment happened, but he thankfully wasn't alarmingly slim. A very brief attempt to place the dog back in the crate was made, but it was going to do more harm than good. I promptly tossed the cage into the trash before we all headed to the vet.

I waited for an hour or so, slowly realizing that my household kept getting bigger on me without any real forethought. Really as casually as finding the WeRateDogs twitter page. That's the way of life. It takes harshly, and gives softly.

Until next week, onward to battle.