'Nother Sip of Gin - Rhys Ford Page 0,11

on the floor. He did not walk. He did not stretch his legs. And he hurt. All the time. Inside and out. There were parts of him I could not reach, because humans and their frail communication skills meant they had to chatter and chatter nonsensically at each other just to say hello or goodbye.

I would have liked if he chattered to someone—anyone—but he rarely saw another person. If he left to the food place on the corner of the crossway, he spent less than a few seconds talking to the human there.

Useless.

And he also brought home much too much liquid fermented grain. If he intended to drink his food, I’d have to find a new person to live with before long because the one I’d found was too broken to survive.

No, I was going to need help. The problem with my human was too big for just one dog to take care of. I’d need a bigger voice than the one I had, one my human—my Miki—would listen to.

I was tired of my human tasting like tears. Tired of hoping he would find something he’d like to play with in the things I brought to him every day. I was going to have to bring him something—someone—grumpier than he was. I knew I felt better after a good fight. There was something about getting my blood stirred up that lifted the spirit even in the darkest of days.

That is what Miki needed. His blood stirred.

And I knew just the human to do it.

Four

HUMANS ARE stupid, stupid things.

Someone brought death to my house, and the swarms of metal-smelling, grumbling men who’d invaded my home spent more time trying to shove me into a box than taking care of my Miki. He was scared and sick. I could smell the sick on him, and the Other One—Kane—was doing the best he could, trying to calm my human down.

It wasn’t going to work. Miki already was covered with the stench of the kill, and it made him sick. He was pulling up his stomach, and the salty mess of grains he’d eaten were all over the ground. But that didn’t matter either. The loud people were digging into that too, as if they would find anything but grains and bile.

There was death in the house! How could they not smell it? It was not a good death. Not like a hunt or even meat brought back from a food place. This was death with no intent on eating the flesh—the worst kind of horror any Pack could think of.

It was something a cat would do—bring a kill to another cat’s yard to say he was better than the other.

I needed to get to Miki. To tell him it would be all right and Kane would take care of him, but one of the humans picked me up—as if he had the right to do so.

So I bit him.

And he did not taste good.

There are very few times when I’ve shown my teeth in anger. Usually to warn another of the Pack away if I’m eating and they are perfectly capable of getting their own food. One does not show teeth to a puppy or kitten. My dam taught me manners before I even pulled away from her teat. I knew that from the beginning. Aggression is stupidity, because there were other ways for me to deal with the situation. But in that moment of panic, stress, and anger, I could only think of one thing—getting to Miki.

So I bit one of Kane’s people until he bled and dropped me.

Sorry, I am not sorry.

I took two steps to the garage when someone threw something over me, and the next moment, I was in the cold, hard room with the water dish I could only reach if I stood on my hind legs. A few pants later, a dish with dry food and more water in a bowl joined me, and someone thought to throw in one of the thick bones Miki had another human bring me when they brought his salty bread things.

There were no familiar voices after that. There was chatter. Most of it confused. Some of it worried. A few times I thought I heard Kane, but the sound of the voice was different. Not as old. Not as wise but very much of the same litter.

There was nothing more I could do. Just sit there. And wait.

Well, and chew the meat off of my bone. I only hoped someone would