Angel On Earth- A Dog Novel

5🐾 Rejected

There were neighboring houses close-by, but they weren't as nice as this one. And they had cars parked in their driveways- but this one was serenly empty and open. Bronx's chosen house even had an isolated porch swing and some matching potted plants by the door.

But Bronx wasn't interested in the door. He trotted up the steps and bent down over a paper plate with brown nuggets scattered atop.

Gypsy was ecstatic. She had expected to get into the trash can next to the house, not to find food right on the porch. "Wow!" She looked at him in wonder.

"I've never gotten food like this before. How do you do it?"

Bronx seemed a bit bored with the question. He tapped his tail in a unethusiastic wag against the concrete of the porch. It was cool and familiar underneath Gypsy's paws. Similar to the concrete floors of the Quarantine kennels in the basement of the shelter.

"At first, we were just getting in the trash cans around here." The white female nodded understanding. "But then, the people started leaving plates or bowls of food out for us. Ever since its been easy pickings... First come first serve."

She cocked her head.

"Then how do you get food to your Grand-dog?" Gypsy challenged playfully. Her pink nose wrinkled as she sniffed the air.

"Oh, uh..." The male took another bite full of dog food. He seemed to be thinking as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful.

"I just drag this plate along with it. It's hard work, of course- but it's the only way. If I carry the food in my mouth all the way back, it'll be mushy saliva before the old dog gets to eat it," he said sarcastically.

Gypsy once again nodded understanding as he stepped back to let her eat. When she was done, she waited for Bronx to perform what he had described.

Bronx clumsily knocked half the remaining food off the plate while trying to slide his lips under it. He then raised the entire paper plate itself off the ground with his teeth. But the plate bent and more food spilled.

Seeming not to notice, the dog flicked his head sideways to head for the camp.

His movement caused all the kibble to fly across the porch, scattering atop the smooth cement.

"Well... like I said, it's not easy. Sometimes I get back and there's nothing left on the plate."

Gypsy thought about how dissapointing that must be. How many times had Obelisk seen his grandson coming with a plate, only to look down and see nothing but crumbs? That's why he's so skinny. This method isn't working well enough.

Patiently, the pittie bent her head to pick up the individual pieces of dog food between her teeth. She was careful not to soak them with her saliva, or break them apart accidentally.

Bronx began helping, but she could tell he was becoming frustrated with how quick and jerky he picked up the food.

After they had once again restored a plate full of dog food, the male picked it up. The plate was hit by a gust of wind and flung sideways, however, dumping the food everywhere after just three steps.

With an outraged bark, Bronx flung the entire plate to the ground.

"This is worthless! I'm wasting my patrolling time."

Gypsy felt bad, glancing over at the male sympathetically. "Here, I'll carry it this time. Just help me pick up the food again first."

It's weird how he's only been trying for a few moments; yet has already given up. She thought about asking him how often he really did this.