Tegan in the Woods (A novel about dogs)

[Chickenpaste]

((Note: I actually like cats more, because I've never had a dog that I actually owned before. This is just based off a dream I had.))

Tegan lifted her weary head from her bed. She slowly opened her sticky eyelids to the new day, savoring the humble scent of the mattress that Tomas had laid down for her mother before her, and that she'd slept in every night for all her life. It was about three AM. Owners wouldn't be up for a few hours. She stumbled to her small paws, balanced by her thick, puppy legs, and slowly walked to the glass, looking through her translucent reflection to the misted morning. She peered up at the pearl sky, the bright clouds blinding her colorless eyes. She closed her eyes and looked away in regret, a bright green-red shape of the sky stuck in front of her. She turned around and padded around the sofa of the living room, and down the hallway, to the second to the last door. Anxiously, she began whining and scraping at the white, wooden door.
The knob squeaked and twisted, and pulled back quickly. Tegan was prepared, however; she sat down in the cutest position possible. It was like this every morning.
Tomas stood there, looking hoplessly at the grey-and-brown collie pup, and moaned back behind his shoulder, "Yordog wahntsyoo agen."
Emma's voice groaned from a long lump in the blanket, which turned for a second, then stopped.
Tegan continued to whine, shifting back and forth in front of Tomas, not taking her eyes off her owner.
Tomas sighed and picked her up, hugging the puppy like a baby. "Yoo gahttastahp doyng-thiss," he said, a hint of humor in his exauhsted, croaky voice. He plopped Tegan on the bed next to his wife, and shut the door. He sat on the queen bed next to them, which was disordered greatly, the blankets scattered about from weeks of neglect.
The pillows were all deflated and flat, completely rectangular. The carpet of the room was an unwelcoming beige, grasping debris, hair, and string in its tangled velcro. On the opposite side of the room a closet was imbedded, which was made of two mirrors that slid infront and behind eachother, opening a small chamber. The walls of the room were sky blue, and assorted shoes were scattered around the floor, mainly in the closet and under the bed. There was one window, opposite the door, which displayed a courtyard, only accessable by the backyard, which had a path that led to it.
Tomas slowly stroaked the dog, mumbling things that Tegan could not understand. Atleast he seems happy, she thought, sweetly. But I still wish I could understand what he was saying. She curled up closer to the lump that was Emma, who lifted a hand out of the messy sheets to place it on her dogs head. Tegan blinked slowly, and fell asleep again.
Seven AM. Tegan's tail wagged like crazy as she pounced up from the ground on the awakening Emma. Emma had dark red, bedraggled hair, and auburn eyes. Tomas had black, scraggly hair and deep blue eyes.
As Emma finally hobbled down to the kitchen, Tegan continuously clawed her leg, yearning for attention. "Quit it!" Emma snapped, kicking her back. Again, Tegan was used to this, and continued.
Tegans life was always the same: She woke up, got fed, went for a walk with Tomas, went to the mall with Emma, went to the park with both, got fed again, went to her nightly obediance class, then came home and did whatever she wanted to. But today, something happened.
"Hay, TEGAN, weegahttuh gowtoo-thuh VET tooday."
Tegan Vet. That was all she could understand, and it didn't sound too good. But why did they half to go to the vet now? She only had to go there for monthly check ups. Was something wrong with her? No matter what, the vet was not a fun place to go.
They set off to the park, Tegan on her expandable leash. The park was small, divided into two portions: one for big dogs and one little dogs. Each one had a round table with attatched benches, where Owners watched their dogs play and fight, and a blue can, that no dog knew exactly what was in it.
Tomas unsnapped the leash from her collar, and Tegan dashed off into the little dogs portion. She immediantly chased after her best friend, Spencer, a Jack Russel terrier yearling. They chased eachother for a bit, then stopped at the dog fountain. Tegan had learned at a younger age that if you licked the pipe, water would come out.
Tegan finished her drink and lifted her head. "Hey, Spencer," she whined to the older dog. "I'm going to the vet today, but I'm not sure why. I usually only go once every month."
Spencer stopped in mid-lick and pulled his head up, not meeting Tegans eyes, and whined, "It's that time."
Tegan tilted her head and barked, "It's what time?"
Spencer let out a short sigh. "It's what Owners do," he barked. "They wait until you fall asleep--which happens so fast, for some reason--and when you awake, you feel different."
"How different?" Tegan whined, suddenly worried.
"Your instinct disappears; you loose your will to hunt; your energy is drained; you even go crazy, for either a week or a month." Spencer turned around now and began to slowly gnaw on an old rotting tennis ball. "It's just... different."
Tegan yelped in horror. "I don't want that! I want to stay regular!"
"I once had a friend who ran away," Spencer suggested. "Although he didn't last long. A few days later, he came running home in tears."
Tegan stared at him for a second. How could he suggest such a thing?

((To be continued))