FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

***

That was the end of discussion about talking to humans. It was also the end of Fatty's dreams of nightly dumpster runs. The leanest dog left in the pack now was Terrier-face and he was nearly double Spinner's weight. He admitted freely that he doubted if he were capable of even the semi-acrobatic feats that Spinner could do. That and the fact that the plastic boxes had been removed the following night dashed Fatty's hopes utterly.

For the pack, the prospect of dumpster diving was the main attraction for leaving the security of the yard. Slowly, the number of nightly walks dwindled. My own lethargy was growing. Somehow, prospects seemed bleak now. All anyone talked about was the coming winter, those of us who could remember living through the last one, and those who asked about it. They also talked about where we were going when finally, all of the fattest dogs would be taken from the yard to go on to the next place, whatever that was. A sense of restless waiting had crept into life in the yard and I was not immune to it.

The world outside the yard was no longer a mystery. Its barrenness, lack of food or activities and the long distances involved proved to be more of a deterrent than an incitement. A vague interest in the other tribe of dogs was all that remained for me at least outside the yard, and for most others there was not even that. But the memory of the question and the laughing eyes never faded. I was at long last able to grasp my disconcertion and my unwillingness to return there after many long sessions of self reflection. They found us to be an oddity. Our bodies were bold and distinguished compared to their scrawny frames that disguised nothing, their skeletal features openly displayed for all to see in a hideous fashion. Yet they laughed at us. That was it, that was the disquieting feeling, I knew it at long last.

I mentioned this revelation to Pink Nose and Fatty and it dawned on them readily as well. "They were laughing at us, those scrawny freaks." Fatty growled, though he'd scarcely visited the other yard since the first time.

Pink Nose looked far more hurt. "It's true." He said, his voice wavering, "It's awfully true. I've always seen it in their eyes, though they never said anything insulting."

"But that's their way." I said forcefully, touching Pink Nose then Fatty on the neck. "They think they are better than us."

Fatty snorted. "They don't even get fed..."

Pink Nose said nothing. After all those long evenings walking out to them to learn, and trekking back, I knew it was a blow. Especially after I'd abandoned him to the task so many weeks ago. "You don't have to go to them anymore Pink Nose." I said, though I didn't really have to at this point.

The chocolate lab gave a small shake of his head though. "But how will we continue to learn English?"

I waved him off with a paw. In the new light of the fact that we were never going to willingly talk to humans, there seemed to me to be little point in improving our English skill. However, I said, "We'll eavesdrop on the humans. Come talk to me after meals. We'll talk about any new words we hear."

Pink Nose smiled at that and the matter was concluded. He stopped traveling across the lot at night to visit the other tribe and none of us had any desire to go any longer. In fact, there was pretty little cause to leave the yard anymore at night. Sure, sometimes I felt the need to pace up the grassy alley, but I found as the autumn faded and the first snows began to fall, that this need decreased.

The weather got colder and colder still. There came a time when the snow stopped melting away during the day and instead turned to slush or ice. We all continued to pile weight onto our already engorged frames. Our grooming circles developed into grooming snowflakes that had to be rotated regularly. Each dog was too fat to service more than one at a time and everybody had aching stretch marks.

I stopped pestering Fat Gut to exercise one frosty morning. I had gotten half hearted for a long time now, but he actually waddled up to me and asked if I was going to walk him. I lifted my head lazily. "Go ahead if you want to." I said to him.

In response, he threw down the blubbery mass of his body with a loud smack on the hard ground. I could see the shockwave of impact flow up to his neck and back down at least seven times before it stopped. "Screw that." He said. "I hate walking in this cold. Hurts my paws."

I looked at him sidelong, thinking that I knew what else was hurting his paws, imagining what a great burden his huge mass had to be on paws that looked so skinny on him now. But I just shrugged and said nothing. That was how Fat Gut got the better of me in the end. I had to wonder if he had always known. But after his liberty, he did finally deign to admit that he probably would be unable to get up now at all if I hadn't done what I did. "Gives me some more room to grow this thing out." He'd said patting his more than generous belly which was actually too large to encompass with his forepaw now. "Not that I particularly like heaving this thing around!" he laughed and slapped it and began to boast about how much more he was eating now than in summer.

Fat Gut's journey seemed to be a representation of the entire pack now in my eyes. I could not escape the fact that he was more popular than me among the dogs now. Somewhere along the way, he'd gotten louder and I'd grown quiet; not that he had ever been all that quiet. In some real sense, he was Alpha again. Of course, no one could hope to challenge me physically, but that didn't seem to matter so much anymore. Sure, it mattered among the mutes. But the rest of them tended to flock around Fat Gut, to be where he was. Me, me they merely respected. They liked Fat Gut. I envied him then, envied his self confidence. His absolute surety, his quick tongue and his wit that made others laugh or cringe at will. The disparity between him and Fatty's obesity grew from where it had been almost nil. Fat Gut got visibly fatter as the weeks wore on, somehow accumulating yet more flesh to himself when every morning it seemed that it was not possible to get any larger.

It had its side effects of course. Fat Gut walked ever decreasing distances, though he rarely walked so far as to wind himself at any time. The act of getting up was most noticeable. It got to be so obviously difficult for him that usually another dog offered him help in rising, later the help became necessary. Usually it was a simple boost to the rear from some dog's head and later it became a communal effort from two or three more able dogs, but it was never begrudged. Always it was offered freely in an almost religious service. He didn't usually have any trouble once he was on his feet, but I did see him stumble a few times. Sometimes if one watched carefully, you would see a leg bend oddly under his weight, as if he had trouble supporting the weight which was surely the case.

Terrier-face was taken sometime after the frosts came. Him and two other dogs. The only marginally thin dogs left in the pack were those pups who had been brought in late spring and summer and simply hadn't had time to grow yet. I might have brooded on his absent for a day or so, but I doubt even that long. The end months of my first year are a haze. I was so numb. After a while, I thought with longing of the day that I would be taken to go wherever it was that was beyond this place. The yard was a holding tank now. But it was worse than that, the whole world was a holding tank. Even if I could muster up the strength and the nerve to attempt an escape, a permanent escape past the danger of the watching man at the end of the fence and the beginning of the road, even if I could do that impossible thing, it would not bring me nearer to my brother or any semblance of the purpose in life I once knew. If anything, such a foolish thing would sunder me from my brother and from my purpose for all time. I kept my delusions to myself.