Sheltered

Mike carefully blotted medication on the three-week old kittens’ eyes as the porch creaked to warn of an approaching visitor.

“Hello?” A timid voice called through the screen door, as the late afternoon sun cascaded a hunched, womanly shadow over the beaten wood floor. Barks and howls erupted throughout the animal shelter, the stacked, metal cages shook with excitement and fear. The dogs were hungry: Mike knew they were, but he dared not put an ounce of food in their dry bowls. There was a schedule to follow. Once a day, at 7 am, one cup of crunchy bargain-brand food would clink against the metal bowl, and the dogs would jump inside the cages like Mexican beans. They were similar to the stupid, Pavlovian dogs who salivated at the sound of a bell. Mike would not deviate from the pattern he had set, and he could not let them control him, or become dominant. They were just animals. When Mike was ready to feed them, he’d feed them. He was the master, they the servants. It was the way of the world.

“The door’s open,” Mike shouted, and watched the shadow shrink and elongate as the figure slowly walked  into the room. The wooden screen door he should have fixed three years ago screeched and collapsed against the splintered door frame. A pudgy Asian woman stood confused in the box of light the sun cast onto the floor.  An ugly, pea-colored hat resembling a pot-holder was placed unevenly upon her white hair. A dark, mahogany branch grew from the left side of the felt hat, with a Styrofoam, round bird perched perfectly at the end ,as if the creature was about to spout a joyous chirping melody. Her right hand meekly held the loop of a pink, laced leash and the animal who it belonged to was hiding behind her massive, frumpy skirt. A shirt fit snugly around her fat folds, and the letters PETA, were split and cracked by the round hump that burst from her back.

“Hello.” Mike said placidly and wiped the kitten’s newly medicated eyes. “ Can I help you?”

“Ah, yes,” she responded and scuttled out of the sunlight, “I heard this place...um....here...is a...um...what you call it? A shelter for the dogs?” He nodded and made his way towards the doorway, completely bored of the stupid old woman.

“Well, uh. This is Daisy. She very sweet.” The older woman roughly pulled the pink, leash, and the dog stiffly crawled from behind her skirt and uneasily sat down on the floor. “Do you mind taking care of dog? I have no room in the house.” As the dog slowly looked up at him, Mike’s breath shot out like a popped balloon.

It was a pure American pit bull, and she was a fighter.

Mike could see the stout and muscular form hidden by the timid, insecure stance the dog had adopted. A delicious Caramel color dripped down the outer side of her limbs, and her chest and feet were dipped in creamy white. Daisy’s entire body quivered as she sniffed the air, and exhaled like a Spanish bull.

“What a beautiful baby girl,” Mike whispered and bent down to get a closer look at her face. Patches of bare, pink skin proudly marked her neck and left cheek. Daisy’s head was perfectly round, and two torn pieces of flesh sprouted around her ear canals like tiny nubs. A deep red scar was carved vertically across her left eye. A mark of a victor, Mike thought proudly.

“Daisy, huh?” he questioned sarcastically and chuckled. What a stupid, pitiless human being, He thought, humanizing such an amazing animal. This beautiful dog was born and bred to fight. “She was a fighting dog eh?”

“Yes, she a fight dog. How you know that?” she questioned and readjusted the elastic band on her skirt.

“I see enough of em around this place.” he said and reached over to pat Daisy on the head. She cringed, but after feeling his soft touch, her tail began to beat a methodical thud against the wooden floors. Her fierceness was hidden underneath the peaceful demeanor painted on her face. Mike imagined her calm mouth curved into an angered snarl, and her razor sharp teeth sunken into another b***h’s flesh as they violently danced. What a wondrous sight that would be, He thought, stifling a smile. When Mike removed his hands, Daisy nuzzled her head against his worn blue jeans.  The woman smiled.

“I just so happy that you have shelter like this,” she struggled to find the words as tears nestled neatly in the corner of her eyes like peas in a pod. “I hope of you take good care for Daisy.” Mike rolled his eyes, and walked behind the counter to grab paperwork. I cannot believe how dense some people are.

“Don’t worry about it miss,” he said and handed her some papers to sign, “I spent over half my life saving animals. I assure you that I’ll take good care of her.”

******

At seven O’clock P.M, Mike pulled the closed sign on the shelter door. The summer sun was steadily sinking into the surrounding forested hills, and the continuous howling of the caged dogs had quieted to an exhausted, soft whimper. Daisy was content and slept underneath the steel desk, and Mike imagined her appetite fully appeased by the three T-bone steaks he had prepared for dinner. He, of course, was disgusted at the smell of the rotted meat, and had prepared a ginger salad for himself. A vegan for life, that’s what he was. Mike smiled as he watched Daisy's defined ribs expand and drop with every raspy breath. He could not wait to reveal her to the boys. He grabbed a tethered, vinyl leash and locked it against the metal rung on her collar.

“Come on baby girl,” he cooed and gently pulled the leash upward, “let’s get you ready.”

They walked in sweet, tender silence across the two-acre lot until the carefully mowed grass morphed into a wide path hollowed between the tall, green stalks of corn. A red barn awaited their arrival and the dim lighting from the inside escaped through the cracks and lines of the splintered, old building. Bellowed yells and rough laughter echoed through the field. He stopped for a moment, soaking in the calm, nostalgic noises, and breathed in the molten, dusk air. Mike smiled as he felt Daisy’s animal instincts pull the short leash. Her eyes were wild and her breath had begun trembling with desire. She wanted blood. As they walked into the barn, the smell of fiery, red dust and stale cigarette smoke caused Mike’s mouth to water with excitement. A concave ring sat directly in the middle of the barn, surrounded by an uneven, bent chain-linked fence. Various hues of drying blood soaked into the porous ground, and dozens of stocky men pressed their bodies close to the metal fence: smoking cigars, shouting, and holding up wads of green cash.

“Hey Mike,” Cindy’s voice shattered his thoughts, “Who is that beautiful babe you have with you?” The woman’s body resembled a Pit Bull’s stout, firm shape, and her shaved head glittered in the fluorescent lights. A cigar stuck out horizontally from her mouth, with every inhale it grew red, then grey  and simmered like a stick of incense. The only masculine feature missing from her chiseled, stone face was a full dusting of facial hair. Loose, dirty clothing hung from her body, and her bra-less chest swung like a pendulum as she moved. Mike oddly felt aroused by her body, as his penis grew firm and pressed against his loose jeans. He remembered the night, four years ago, when he fucked her.  There were Beer cans strewn across the uneven, red carpet of her bedroom, and the moonlight was pouring in from the curtain-less, boxed windows.

“I love you,” She said, her face was hidden behind the shadow of night, but her bright jade eyes pierced through the blackness, “I’ve always loved you.” Cindy’s body was nude except for the breezy, opaque sheets that covered her calves, and concealed their touching toes. He liked that she wanted him, and that he could influence Cindy to do anything. She was like a dog: a stupid, brainless animal. Mike was in control that night, and was the dominant one- as it should always be.

 Disgusting human. Mike nodded to acknowledge her.

“Do you want me to get her ready?” Cindy desperately asked, her breath escaped into the air and stunk like the inside of an old, rotten refrigerator. She grabbed the leash without an answer and glared at Daisy. Daisy’s tail went between her legs, and she began whining.

“Ok, sweetheart.” Mike bent down and gingerly cupped his hand around the dog’s jawbone. “Fight good for Daddy, ok?” He could tell through the smoldering flames in Daisy’s eyes, that she was ready. Daisy desired to be set free from the demeaning human world that had caged her natural instincts and physical superiority. Mike felt the dog’s saliva drip onto his thumbs.

He went to sit in the red folding chair that was reserved for him, the king of dog fighting. He had quit high school, forgotten about college, and built this empire with careful planning.  Actually, he had built it on the sweat and blood of the dogs’ work. He laughed at the joke. The crowd quieted as the two pit bulls: Daisy and a wiry grey alpha-male, were placed in the ring. The alpha-male growled at the sight of Daisy and immediately dashed towards her, teeth snapping widely at her neck. Daisy’s submissive body morphed into a sturdy, monstrous form as she hovered with anger.

As soon as Daisy and the male began pushing their bodies against one another, Mike became bored. The dogs did the ordinary, and Mike yawned at the continuous growling and yelping that threatened to lull him into sleep. It was not until the end, when the alpha-dog sank his razor teeth into Daisy’s soft neck, did Mike become interested.

“NO DAISY!”  Mike angrily shouted and clenched his nails into his palms, “You stupid b***h, try harder!”

The roaring mass of voices quieted as a sharp, bony snap crackled through the room like a falling line of domino's. Daisy’s solid form, her stout structure and pulsating muscles twitched for a few seconds before becoming limp. Stupid Dog, Mike thought and stood up. She collapsed, yet her competitor’s lock and growl remained strong.  A combination of groans and cheers filled the barn as Mike and Cindy pried the alpha-dog’s firm grip off of Daisy’s neck.

“Such a beautiful dog.” Mike sung as he bent down and tenderly threaded his hands underneath her back. “but not a victor, not a warrior. Just a stupid, beautiful dog.”

Grunting softly, he lifted the dog off the dirty ground as though she was a new born child. Daisy’s heavy, limp head fell towards the floor, her triangular shaped ribs remained still and her limbs stiff and starched. A deep gash exposed the tendons and muscles buried in her neck, and blood poured out, trickling onto Mike’s forearms. The bubbling crowd slowly parted as Mike made his way towards the blue tarp that was already adorned with the decayed corpses of three other brave pit bulls. I am happy to allow them to die in honor Mike thought to himself I am happy to allow them to be animals. As he laid her down, the tarp crinkled and the divots and hills hugged the curves of her back. The hanging light that cast a fluorescent glow across Daisy’s fur flickered and died, causing her form to become lost in the darkness.

Mike bit his lip and turned around to get ready for the next fight. Damn, I just changed that light bulb.