Dog Eat Dog...based on a truse story

Blake wasn't always a stray dog. He once had a home and a family with kids and other pets to play with. There was a lot of love in that household, at least for the first couple years. As he would wander about, searching for his next meal, he often would think of those times and he would miss it. And every time he thought of those happy memories wrath would swell up inside him. He was angry at what led him to where he was today... a stray dog, abandoned and left in the middle of nowhere.

And even though he was angry, deep down Blake always hoped that one day he would find his way home. He could forgive them if he could just come home. Anything was better than living on the streets. Even the thought of how terrible things were just before they dropped him off on a county road in the middle of nowhere was more welcome than being a nobody's dog. 

Blake still can't understand how this came to be. There was so much love in that family, he just couldn't understand why such good people would do this to him. He spent countless hours contemplating on where he went wrong. Or was it his masters who went wrong? He longed to know.

Blake was born the biggest of the litter, a stout little fellow, solid and heavy. He always used it to his advantage, bullying his way to front of the pack, taking more than his fair share. He knew how to throw his weight around, knocking the other pups down to be the first in line. He carried most of his weight in his rear end and he would swing it out like a little wrecking ball to plow his way through whatever stood in his way.

Blake was also an incredibly cute puppy and he knew it, giving him an even greater advantage over the rest of the litter. When potential owners came to visit they picked him up first, not because he bullies his way to the front but because he was so stinking cute. He was the top dog and he knew it. And pride washed over him.

When he at last was taken to a knew home he was greeted by another dog who had already been with the family for seven years. There was also 2 kids to play with and 2 cats to torment. But one thing he quickly realized was how he had to compete for attention. Jonesy, the other dog who had already established himself as the top dog in the house, seemed to get the most attention. Blake envied the veteran dog at how much attention he got.

Boredom set in as he got little attention so he would spend his time eating and laying around. And he continued to gain more weight, and it still went to his rear end. There would be times when the kids would want to play with him and play he would but he would quickly grow tired and he would flop on the floor in the middle of playing and take a nap. Oftentimes his movements would be slow and meticulous, like that of a sloth. When they called his name he would only raise his head and stare instead of coming to them.

And he ate some more. Blake felt that if Jonesy is to get all the attention then he is to get all the food. If there was food in the dish, he would eat it. If there was water in the bowl he drank it. Blake then thought while he's at it he should eat the cat's food too. If he could starve them out he would be the top dog again. His greed for all the food would cause fights with the other animals whenever their masters put food in the dish.

And the dog grew some more, still packing all the weight in the trunk. "Move it you fat ass!" or "Get off me you fat fuck!" were words commonly used by his masters towards him. He liked the attention though and so he would always flop on his masters just so they would yell at him and push him off. But they soon grew accustomed to his weight laying on them so he had to find a new way to get attention.

A dog has needs but the only females in the house were either feline or human and so his only option was to hump Jonesy. He was male but at least he was a dog. This served as a double bonus because he could fulfill his doggy needs while venting his frustration on the dog he both admired and despised. It was awkward and not very satisfying at first but he soon had a lust for Jonesy and would hump him whenever he came near.

But the excitement would wear off as it often does with any relationship and Blake grew bored of Jonesy. He continued to seek the attention of his masters so he would dig through the trash and make a mess. They would smack his fat ass and throw him outside. It hurt at first but after a while he began to like it. He was a real glutton for punishment. But his owners wised up and put the trashcan behind closed doors and so the attention came to an end.

He then took to humping the cats to pass the time until a new way to get attention came along. Humping the cats did get him a little bit. "Blake! You sick fucking dog! Stop it!" his owners would yell just before kicking him away from the cats. But the abuse just wasn't the same. His owners didn't seem to be too angry with him since he wasn't making a mess.

Blake thought that if the adults won't give him what he wants maybe the kids will. He tried to chew up their their toys to make them angry with him. This plan backfired however, as the kids seemed to have more toys than they know what to do with and so they didn't mind donating a few toys for him to chew on. He had to find new ways to make a mess.

Chewing toys just wasn't cutting it so he chewed on other things like dishes or other various household items he could get his paws on.

Blake took his attention-seeking methods to a whole new level when he began hiking his leg and urinating in various spaces in the house. He figured while he was at he would leave land mines in strategic spots, insuring detonation by any non-suspecting victims. This enraged his owners and they would rub his nose in it, smack his fat ass, and throw him outside. And it was good.

Blake especially liked it when it was the man of the house who would carry out the punishment, for it was he who hit the hardest. Sometimes Blake would growl and bite at him to anger him even more and solicit a few bonus kicks, and every time he kicked him his foot landed true on the dog's fat ass. Sometimes his master would kick him all the way out the door. And Blake loved every second of it.

Blake liked to milk things for what they were worth. When he was outside he would scratch at the back door, signifying he was ready to come in. But when they opened the door to let him in he would just sit there and blankly stare at him. They would gently call for him, "Come here Blake! Come on boy!" and he remained still, staring. They would then grab a bag of treats and shake it at him to try to lure him in and still he did not budge. Then they would then change their tone and yell at him "Dammit Blake! Get inside now! Go! Move it you fucking fat ass!" and still the dog held his blank stare. Finally they would step out to manually escort him inside and Blake would lay down on his back. The scooted him along with their feet, subtle at first but then more aggressively as he offered up more resistance. Blake's favorite part was that one final kick that would send him spinning across the kitchen floor.

Blake missed that family, the abuse. He still couldn't believe they had dumped him though. They just didn't seem like those kind of people. He often heard them talk about getting rid of him and every time they had that conversation he heard them say "If we get rid of Blake we gotta make sure he goes to a good home, where he will get attention." It just didn't make sense to Blake and it left him searching for answers.

And then one day those answers came. It happened while he was nosing through a bag of Taco Bell he found on the side of the road. A white car was approaching so he cautiously moved to the side to wait for it to pass. It was coming slow at first but then when it got closer it sped up and swerved towards him. Blake jumped out of the way, narrowly escaping death. As the car sped away he got a good look at the bumper and the sticker that was on it. It read: "IF REDNECKS GET DIVORCED ARE THEY STILL SIBLINGS?"

In the car's wake Blake caught a familiar scent and instinctively began to chase after the car. It was a funky odor that he knew he had smelled before, but from where he could not remember. All he knew was that he didn't like that smell. There was no way he could keep up with the car but still he tried. And then all of a sudden it hit him. He remembered where he knew that smell from, it was those fucking neighbors, the ones who had painted him.

And then he remembered that it was them who dumped him in the middle of nowhere, not his owners. Images flashed through his mind as he recalled the day he was lost. The bumper sticker on the car that he had read as he was pissing on the bumper, the neighbors coming at him with a bag and scooping him up, being violently tossed into the car and then later getting thrown from the car while it was still moving, the countless hours he spent in a ditch trying to escape from the bag.

Anger swelled inside of Blake when he remembered was those bastards had done to him and he ran even faster, keeping the car in his sight. He knew there was no way he could catch up to the car but still he ran, fueled by rage. He was giving up hope when the car was now a couple miles ahead of him, fading in the distance, about to go over a hill to disappear forever. Then all of a sudden it seemed to turn into a driveway, just before the hill. With hope restored, Blake ran hard, like never before.

At last he came to the driveway, and sure enough there the car was, parked near a trailer that had seen better days, surrounded by trash and overgrown weeds and grass. Blake came to a stop to plan his next move. Then he noticed there was something familiar with his surroundings. He looked around some more and then he saw it, his home. He was so focused on catching the car that he simply didn't noticed that he ran right past his home.

Blake's heart was lifted and he let out a bark of relief. He dismissed his pursuit of the car, their time was coming, but for now he had a family to reunite with. He ran to the back door and scratched it, just like he used to. The door opened and there stood his master. With his tail wagging furiously, Blake sat and blankly stared at him. It was good to be home.


*disclaimer* We do not abuse our dogs nor do we endorse the abuse of any animal. Parts of this story are fictionalized for dramatic effect.