'Nother Sip of Gin - Rhys Ford Page 0,13

my human.

When I first moved into our home, he was hurt someplace too deep inside of himself for me to lick clean.

That is the problem with humans.

They get hurt too deep inside of themselves, and sometimes their souls bleed out of wounds they can’t see.

When I first found my human, I knew he’d been bleeding out for a while. I just didn’t know he was hemorrhaging—the wounds went that deep.

Kane helped. More than helped. Kane was a staunch on his wounds—those ones I couldn’t reach. Together we scraped and pushed our human until he moved about. Miki ate the food Kane brought him. I could ask for no better hunter than Kane. Miki no longer smelled of salt and chemicals, and his eyes weren’t dead anymore.

That is what worried me the most. One’s body—human or dog—could be flopping about fine in the grass, but once the eyes go dead, the time for their soul to leave is near, and not even the body can keep it contained.

I was very concerned about that. I didn’t want Miki to leave me. Humans should not burn as brightly and as quickly as Pack. They live longer because they see so little, live so little. They need more time to fully become themselves, and oftentimes, they don’t make it—even when they are given ten Pack lives to live.

It is a sad thing to be human. The world must be a drenched, watery place with no smells, and their eyesight—it would have been better for them if they were born blind so their other senses could develop better. Instead, they are milky shadows in the world, sliding around hoping to suck up anything they can and call it living.

Of course, I also get the feeling they believe they are in domination of the world. Which is silly, because how can a living thing own a rock? A rock will be here long after the living thing becomes dust again.

Miki is not like that. Kane is a little bit like that with the collars and baths and noise names, but I humor him. He did after all help me fix Miki.

But this new one—in the house. Smelling of things that are familiar yet are not. He is bigger than Kane. They smell alike, but this one is more seasoned. Gruffer in some ways, but when I ask him for food, he gives me finely minced steak, and once, even cow bones covered in fat and gristle.

It’s a good human who knows gristle is the way to a dog’s heart.

This one knows.

“Con, I’m fine. I don’t need you to check up on me just because Kane’s at work.” Miki speaks to the one who’s come. They have already spoken at the door, and for a moment, I thought I would have to bite the One-That-Is-Not-Kane, because he was insisting on coming into the house and Miki wasn’t happy about it.

Never bite a human that gives you food, was my dam’s second lesson to me. It is a good lesson. One I follow strictly because people like smiling, happy dogs. I like a full belly, so it works out. I didn’t want to bite… Con, his name is Con—but I would if I had to. Anything for Miki.

Sometimes rules are meant to be broken. And I knew Miki would protect me from harm if I had to defend him.

For a catlike human, Miki is quite loyal.

“He loves you, y’git,” Con rumbles, his voice as deep as the Dane’s down the street. “K asked me to come by because he’s worried about you. Wanted to make sure you ate and got some sleep.”

“A phone call wouldn’t have done that?” Miki growls. He pushes back, shoving his personality at the other man. He was good at that. Shoving and skipping away. “Besides, I’ve got Dude.”

I wagged my tail. They like it when a dog wags their tail upon hearing the noise they’ve given him. I’m not sure why. There’s rarely any play attached to the sound, but oftentimes it means food, so tail-wagging I go.

In this case, Miki pets my head as I jump up onto the couch so I could put my paws on the back cushions and look up at Con without hurting my neck. He is llama-tall, and I nearly choke off my breath looking up at him all the time. Kane too. Both of them are much too tall for the average dog to look up at. And unlike Q, they don’t squat to talk to