THE YARD

Chapter 3

(image shown on Media Board is Grey Dog)

There was, indeed, an order to things here in The Yard. Flare had learned all about it in the months she had grown up here, seeing trees grow from brittle withered branches into luscious blooming buds and leaves.

But Flare only saw that over the very tops of the fence... And rarely smelled the tree's scents, either. She had found that the yard actually wasn't as huge as she'd thought it was. The yellow dog actually yearned to smell anything outside of it nowadays, to go farther than just the wooden slabs. And after growing big enough to knock over the black bin full of delicious smells, she had done just that after her belly curdled and growled for food all throughout the days.

She knew now that it was a rule of The Man not to do that, though. And she'd refused to fight for her food, instead choosing to hold out until the dogs were finished and then sniffing around. She had also taken advantage of the young woman's monhtly appearances, who appeared to favor her most whilst growing up. A few half dozen steak bones once a month, however- were not enough for even a small dog.

Because of that, she was almost a walking skeleton, skinnier than any other dog in The Yard... Just like Jax had said all those months ago. Perhaps that's why she hadn't been used as a fighting or breeding dog yet; she looked too sickly. Her pelt was untidy no matter how much she licked it, and her ribs and haunches poked painfully though her skin when she laid down.

Which, laying down was most of what she did anyways. In her acclaimed spot right next to the house and porch, where there was a slab of shade at certain times of day. The only downside was that she was nowhere close to the dog houses or patch of grass that the other dogs used for urinating and defecating. Flare did her business in the opposite corner of the house and fence, past the trash can and where the dogs and humans rarely strayed. The grass was tall and uncut over there, but she could flatten it and so had.

It was also a monthly occurrence for The Man and other human to raise their voices in emotional screeches at each other. More rarely, The Man would even fling things about in the home whilst screeching, or storm out of the front door and get in his truck to ride away.

The dogs didn't pay much attention to that, though. What bothered Flare the most about the humans was that The Man would take dogs to the shed to fight each other.

It usually happened once a week, with two weeks or so off every now and then. Still, one night per several days was enough for her, because the blood-curdling sounds that erupted from the shed filled every dog's ears and put them on edge.

Flare was always stationed at her spot near the house, so she could usually just flatten her ears to block out the sounds and make them unrecognizable. She understood now why the dog houses weren't used even though they offered the best shade and shelter, why the dog's here never allowed each other to have friendships.

They were encouraged to wound each other terribly because of The Man, and most nights after a fight, a dog was led through the back gate- apart of the fence and so well blended in that the only sign of it was the black latch. Flare had imagined it as a possible escape route, but it was too tall for her to interact with the latch, and too heavy to push or move. Plus, any dogs who were led into the shed were always done so by being led out on a leash, and the door was always quickly shut. The dog houses and chains had been placed close to the back door for a reason; The Man chained up the dogs for that night's fight. According to him, they had to use the dog house area until their injuries were a bit healed.

Flare knew she was grimly lucky not to have become a 'Fighting Dog', or a 'Breeder' yet. She had focused on recognizing each area of the yard, each spot for daily food, water, or shade, and each timing of a human coming or going at each time of day. Her and the other dogs relied on that structure to not grow insanely bored and restless every day. They fought over the resources in the yard, but each dog's place had ultimately not changed from the time she had arrived. If anything, White Dog was the most in charge, but Grey Dog could have been if he'd wanted to. He was the most resilient to pain, and had the young body and strong jaws to inflict it as well.