New York, New York

[Baby]

What a disgusting city. So many people. Children, elders, and adults. Each horrible in their own little way. Baby had never really liked humans. It wasn't that they treated her badly. Oh, no, on the contrary. In fact, Baby was rather spoiled for a dog. They just seemed to rub her the wrong way. That was why she had just up and left. Her life had gotten boring. Everyday it was breakfast at ten, walk at eleven, bath at twelve, grooming at one, television at two, lunch at three and so on and so forth. Baby had just gotten awful bored of the same schedule. It was so monotonous for her and, she imagined, any other dog. Of course, she musn't be ungrateful. At least, not for awhile. It was too soon to not to feel guilty. So, Baby forced guilt upon herself, even though it was completely false. Often, she would just sit and cry and whine about how she shouldn't have left. Then a few seconds later, she'd look for food. If there was any. These days, Baby didn't eat much. But, when she did, it was usually something fantastic. The falt-coated retriever wouldn't go near a dumpster or garbage can. She'd wait for someone or something to bring her food. She was just much too good to sink to the level of a...street dog and rummage through garbage.

Today was one such day. One of the days she just forced herself to cry, but only because it was polite. So, she whined for a few minutes and, when she was done, she sat her head on her oval-shaped black paws. She grinned a bit, pleased with herself because she could keep so clean in this filthy place. Baby remembered the place she'd come from. It had been so different. In reality, this park she was currently in reminded her a lot of the place. There were trees all over, small farmhouses with large backyards. Her family were the only people she considered not to be hicks. The rest of the humans just seemed...ick. Anyway, Baby found this park to be the most beautiful place in the whole city. At least, the most beautiful place she'd been to. She had heard, some way or another, that the beach was a wonderful place. Only at night, though, because, during the day, it was littered with humans of every age. Sometimes, Baby wished she had a better temperament. She wished she could have a higher tolerance for people and animals alike. She wanted to be able to like someone without hurting them in some way. She wanted to be able to like another dog without...well, doing what she usually did with other male dogs. She didn't get along with females very much. At least, no females here and none where she had once lived. Anyway, this was only sometimes...

It was unbearably hot today. So hot, Baby just wanted to give herself up to the urge she had. It told her "Swim in the pond, you crazy dog! After all, it's what you were meant to do!" to which she responded, out loud, "I was meant to do nothing..." Her eyes were closed as she whispered the sentence to herself, and her pink tongue found its way out of her mouth. Bah, who cared what it looked like. Dogs did that, didn't they? Panted? Of course they did. Normal dogs, anyway. But Baby wasn't a normal dog. She was a magnificent dog. She was capable of doing a lot of things. She just never did them. Lately, she'd been feeling extremely lazy. Probably the heat's fault. Baby had never been out in the heat this long before. It had been a few weeks since she left home. A few long, hard, and hot weeks. Of course, nothing was really hard for Baby. She just found other people to do things for her. Dogs, too, and other animals. Like birds. What idiots! Whatever she asked them to do, they did it. Find food. Send a message. Whatever. Baby grinned, thinking about the last bird she asked to go on an errand. He was such a simpleton, it was hilarious!

Slowly, one by one, Baby opened her dark brown eyes. The sun was setting, finally. It was still extremely hot, but the sun was steadily fading from view. The sky was pretty this evening. A mix of blues and yellows and pinks and oranges. Baby took back her thought about the one beautiful thing in the city. The sky was right up there with the park. Literally, too. The black retriever had to admit that the evening sky was one gorgeous sight when one hadn't opened their eyes for a while. Crying had never prompted her to open her dark browns and certainly thinking about how stupid pigeons could be did nothing to lift up her lids. She'd just been sitting there, eyes closed, thinking about things. That was another thing Baby liked about being on her own. She didn't have to entertain someone all the time. If she wanted to close her eyes and think about things, she could do it. Unless, of course, she did have company. If she did, she would've have been entertaining them, just because she was a polite dog and that's what polite dogs did. Entertain their company. The strange thing was that nobody seemed to want her company anymore. Every day, less and less dogs would visit with her. Meaning, if she was there, they'd completely ignore her.

Baby's eyes scanned her surroundings and settled on looking to the left. She saw a few ducks swimming around in that little pond. A dog was in it, too. She wasn't quite sure of the breed as she wasn't able to see that far. She figured it was a male because, no sensible female would do that with so many witnesses. There were a few humans scattered about, most of them older. None seemed younger than sixteen, but non older than fifty. It seemed that children and old people were the only ones with real bedtimes. The children would probably complain about sleeping so early. She guessed the old people would too. Boy, wouldn't the children be in for a surprise, eh? They're so upset about sleeping early now. When they grew up, they'd just go to sleep earlier! Baby laughed, shaking her head slightly. She couldn't help but wonder, though, would she go to sleep early when she was older?

[Race]

Gone… Sorry about the delay, my computer was on the fritz. XP …With the wind. 'Look at me, I'm the King of New York… Suddenly, I'm respectable, staring right at ya, lousy with stature. Nobbin' with all the muckety mucks, I'm blowin’ my dough, with gowin' deluxe. And there I be, aint I pretty? It's my city, I'm the King of New York…' Steady, continuous sputters reeking with dust and air pollution spun wildly into the dusky night air, a light breeze aiding in propelling the foul smelling gas higher into the atmosphere. Countless numbers of out dated automobiles darted shamelessly up and down the crowded street, screeching and honking as they glided clumsily over the worn pavement. Discussing and ragged things, they were. Rather unreliable and hideous tools of transportation, their purposes and uses limited to an extremely small amount. Only a handful of substance objects could be labeled as truly grotesque and repulsive to one individual being, their names and descriptions specifically unique to each and every being that bears distaste for them. A large, unstable looking pick-up truck chugged carelessly past the dim junction that filtered four narrow streets into one, the driver seemingly not noticing that his vehicle was leaving a thin trail of unidentified liquid in its wake… Race hated cars. 'When I'm at bat, strong men crumble- Proud yet humble. I'm the king of New York. I gotta be either dead, or dreamin' 'Cause look at that pape, with my face beamin' Tomorrow they may wrap fishes in it, But I was a star for one whole minute! Look at me, I'm the King of New York. Aint ya heard? I'm the King of New York!' Ahhh. The park. Perhaps the only place in the entire city that seemed the least bit untouched by man kind. It was this particular place where Race felt the most at home, everything from the soft trill of the birds singing in the trees, to the distant splash of the shallow pond reminded the young Ridgeback of his late home in one way or another…. Ahhh, the Racetrack, what a place that had been. Even now as the young brute stepped lightly through the large iron gates that allowed admittance the green park, he still held every memory of his past living quarters. Gluttonous shouts of the betters’ arguing filtered through keen his senses as the sturdy limbed canine thought back to the good ‘ol days when life was a game. His thoughts fell backwards in time, the endless summer days at the races nearly blinding him with memories of years gone by. Life was carefree and jubilant alright, until that one day when reality came crashing down on the poor country dog. A mistake. A bad decision. That was all it took… Deep puddles of sharp bronze tilted to and fro as the large frame of a muscular canine phased silently into the light of the nearby street lamp, it’s already dim flame flickering cautiously as the early evening sun began to drift beyond the horizon. Mahogany hued pelt ripped slightly as a small gust of air swept itself across its surface, earning a little to reaction from the owner. Smirking lightly as the streetlamp’s light finally disinigrated completely, the lean figure stepped into the vast clearing farther, almond carved pools taking in all of their surroundings. Vague shadows of the two legged humans could be seen teetering somewhere in the distance, most likely attempting to turn in for the night. Humph. Stupid humans. They did this every time the sun even came close to setting, oblivious to the great wonders the park provided as the light faded from the world. They ran like frightened puppies scurrying to find their mothers, bumbling blindly through their lives, wanting nothing to do with any form of adventure or danger. Another small snort erupted from the handsome Ridgeback as his form began to shift forwards into a steady trot. He almost felt pity for them… Almost. 'Flashpots are shootin' bright as the sun, I'm one highfalutin' son-of-a-gun. Don't ask me how, Fortune found me, Fate just crowned me, Now I'm king of New York…' Pity. That was another thing Race despised more than anything else in the world. A worthless emotion, a pointless feeling, a speed bump on the road of life… Race had never taken kindly to pity, especially if the pity in questioned was directed towards himself. It had never been something he tolerated, or in his opinion, and I quote, “’Ain’t your problem, so get off it.” It was blunt perhaps, but true all the same. In all honesty, and you might be fortunate to pick this up as you converse with him, Race hates giving pity almost as much as he hates receiving it. The young brute was had never been a kind and considerate canine, and that’s the way he plans to keep it… Besides, when did kindness and love ever help him when he needed it most? The soft drone of a taxi hummed continuously in the distance as Race pushed further and further into the park, his steady pace showing no signs of slowing down. His large crania whipped back and forth in a rhythmic manner, making it seem as if the bronze creature was searching for something. Elevating his slim neck as his striking honey painted ops narrowed, the Rhodesian ridgeback’s smirk grew as he found what he was searching for at long last. The pond. It was a simple place really, one that could easily be referred to as Race’s lil’ patch of heaven. Taking one small glance at the pond’s small perimeter, the muscular hound concluded that what little number of humans there were left in the park would diminish rapidly in the next few minutes, meaning that the majority of his free time in the water could be spent in peace, with little distraction. 'Look and see, Once a piker, Now a striker, I'm the king of New York… Victory! Front page story, Guts and glory…' Bringing his lithe legs into a dead run, the shaded lust pack member darted across the wide clearing, leaping over miscellaneous bits of trash and litter as he went. As the distance between his striding form and the pond came to a near close, the chestnut tinted creature reacted with cat-like reflexes, propelling his shadowed form into the dim atmosphere with one swift kick of his hind limbs. The cool, calming sensation of the wet liquid engulfing his lithe physic soon took hold of Race’s scenes the moment he came crashing into its clear depths. The fridged temperature hardly occurred to the canine as his massive crown resurfaced, a lopsided grin replacing his sharp smirk. This was what he was meant to do. This is what dogs where meant to do. It seemed as if only moments had passed before an odd feeling wrapped itself around Race’s figure, a feeling that was drifting on the edge of suffocating him with an eerie silence. Leaning slowly in the direction of a small shuffling sound, the large hound caught sight of movement, a dark, shadowy form that stood not ten yards away. Deep brown orbs narrowed in slight curiosity as he proceeded towards the shape, muffled gurgling sounds accompanied him as he sloshed carefully through the small body of water. Coming to an abrupt halt in the center of the pond, the pure blood canine let out a low growl before speaking for the first time, his gruff, masculine voice carrying successfully across the clearing, “Oy, who’s there?” 'I'm the king of New York.'

This post has been edited by Race on Aug 8 2006, 08:27 PM