Savage?

One

The first thing I remember was being cold. The cold, musty air kissed my wet fur and attacked my newly functioning lungs. The cold concrete floor might as well have been ice. All I could do was shiver until the warm tongue of my mother caressed my back and cleared me of slime. She guided me towards her belly, where the heat radiating from her soothed me. The most simple of urges controlled me, I don’t remember having coherent thoughts, and I eagerly latched on to her teat. Before too long, other small bodies surrounded me and we all suckled with little regard for each other. A full belly lulled me to sleep and I curled up right against my mother’s stomach, oblivious to the other small paws stepping on me.

Time was a hard concept to grasp during this time. I was ruled by my stomach, in a constant cycle of eating, sleeping, and wiggling around. There were occasions where our mother would leave us for short periods, and I would cry and climb on siblings in hopes of regaining her attention and warmth. Luckily for us, she always came back.

And then a miracle happened. My world gained shape and sound. I heard the whimpers and squeals of my three siblings, the snuffles and sighs of my mother, and the occasional loud foreign growl or noise from outside our walls. I got to observe my family for the first time.

My mother, a chubby fawn and white dog, had very little interest in us. She made sure we were fed, but even that she did with disinterest, flopping herself down and rising again with little discretion as to whether we were full. Her attention was focused on whatever lay outside our room. When the door was opened light flooded in, making it almost impossible for my sensitive eyes to see what lay beyond. She would rush out, the door would shut, and we would be left to our own devices for a few minutes.

Two of my brothers looked very similar to her, white with splashes of color randomly dispersed across their bodies. They were my best friends, and the three of us routinely wrestled and played. It seemed to me that I was the strongest, able to pin them down more frequently than they could do the same to me. It got to the point where they would only wrestle me if it was two on one, holding me down as my frustration grew. As soon as I was able to wiggle free I would chase them around the room, not satisfied until my teeth chewed on their ears or tails.

My third brother was the weakest, the runt of the litter. His legs wobbled long after we had grown nimble. He crawled after our mother after we had given up on getting more from her. I could even smell something was not right with him. He smelled sour, and his breath was like rotting meat. We took turns ignoring and abusing him.

One day, after our mother had been let out, a man passed came in. He was like nothing I had ever seen, positively towering over us. I let out an unconvincing growl, earning a laugh from him. He set down a metal tray that smelled glorious and left the way he came. After making sure he was gone, I set forward to exam it. I licked it once, twice, three times. It tasted much better than the milk I was accustomed to. Letting go of my suspicion, I started to eat. The two twins charged forward, digging in beside me. Our other brother stayed in the corner, whining for Mother. Unable to fight off the post-meal drowsiness, I laid against my brothers to nap.

When I woke up, the tray was gone and my mother was back. I looked curiously towards the door, wondering for the first time what all was beyond that magical boundary that separated us from the giant. I trotted over, sniffing at the small crevice at the bottom. The variety of scents overwhelmed me, but not as much as what I heard. The barking, snarling, growling and crying of dogs that were the muffled backdrop to my life were now heard in perfect clarity. Where a lesser pup might have been frightened by the intensity, I was thrilled. My adrenaline pumped and the hairs on my back stood straight up. There was more to life than this dark room. I spun around and charged my still sleeping brother. I grabbed his ear and tugged hard, making him cry loud enough to get my mother’s attention. She lumbered over, giving me a warning growl. I took the invitation and eagerly chomped down on her nose. It’s easy to say that was not the response she expected. She snarled in surprise and pulled back, causing me to fall on my face. She shoved me roughly to the side with her nose. Her seriousness cowed me for the moment, and I snuck back off to the door to listen by myself.

It wasn’t long after we started eating wet food that our small brother died. I remember waking up and smelling the rotting scent that plagued his breath all throughout the small room. We took turns sniffing him, knowing somehow that he would never cry again. When our master returned, he carried the body out without a word.

Life moved on. Our legs grew longer and our bodies grew thicker. Our play turned from mindless to true playfighting. Master began to take time to observe us, sitting in the room and watching us play. He never stayed for more than ten minutes, leading me to believe he was a fairly busy man. There were times that he would play with us, but his games included tugging on our limbs and examining us.

Still, it came as a surprise to me when first one and then my other brother were taken from the room. I was left alone with my mother. Since our earlier encounter, I had been wary about roughhousing with her. I had no choice now. I laid by her head and gnawed softly on her ear, wishing for my siblings back. The boredom was killing me. I eagerly ran to Master when the door opened, trying to squeeze through. I never saw the foot coming. I flew back, hitting the ground with a force that took my breath away. I was frozen, blinking and trying to understand what had just happened to me.

I leapt up to retaliate, jaws open to snap on the offending foot, but it avoided me. He would wiggle it right in front of my face and then snatch it back. I tried a few more times before I wised up, backing away from him entirely. He laughed, the harsh sound reverberating throughout the room. He reached down, evading snapping teeth, and grabbed my by the nape. I was carried out of the room, too furious to concentrate on my new surroundings.

He tossed me into a crate, one of many filled with agitated dogs. They lined the hallways of this dark and dreary place. The dogs to the left and right of me snarled through the bars, looking for a piece of me. I snarled right back, my voice breaking. Every now and then the dogs would stop growling at each other and focus on one dog, whichever one was walking past. They would be led by a chain, covered with scars and walking proudly. They usually failed to make contact with the caged dogs, instead marching pretentiously forward. The came in pairs and triples, but only one ever came back by.

It was during those miserable weeks that I learned the sort of life I was expected to live. My clay was being molded right before my eyes.

Author's Note:
Does this count as an update? I feel really bad for not giving you guys anything for so long. Here is a rewrite of the first chapter. I feel like it is a major improvement. If you remember much of the first chapter I'd love to hear your opinions. There will be some minor plot changes as I go forward, but this didn't change very much. I'm not sure if I'm going to "edit as I go" and update each chapter as I finish it, or if I'll wait til all the chapters have been rewritten to dump them. I don't want to cause too much confusion with inconsistencies. Anyways, enjoy :).