[Don't Cringe] -- open!

[irony]

Pat. Draaaag. Pat. Draaaag.

The problem with having lived one’s life as a loyal house pet were the unappreciated luxuries. Constantly available kibble, a warm roof over one’s head, regular visits to the veterinarian, and, most obvious to Kaptain now, nail trimmings. He’d yapped and struggled whenever Master wanted to get it done in his life Before, and the guilt of his actions weighed heavily on him now. If he could go back, he would have sat lovely and taken Master’s attentions without fuss. His nails had been overgrown for weeks now. Thick black tips pressed and dragged against the ground as he walked, forcing his paws to arch back on the heel. It made for damned uncomfortable walking.

Kaptain flared his nostrils, his pendulum lips curling in a snarl. He slammed one paw down on the gravel and dragged it across, his nails pushed down. The cuticle ripped, causing tiny flecks of black to stutter out in front of him. It was slow progress, but Kaptain would be damned if he’d be hobbling around on his pasterns like some cripple.

He shook himself, easing tension, and snapped his teeth together. Sharp inhale, preparation for the pain, and he smashed his other paw on the pavement.

Pat. Draaag. Pat. Draaag.

[DAKOTA]

The asphalt was cold. The sun was out, though it did little as the fea walked forward, the sound of dead leaves crunching under her paws trailing her in her search for dumpster food. Though hunger never pained her, the thought of dumpster diving would bring her closer to the reality of being a stray. And every street dog knew the smell of food meant there was a dumpster nearby. Whether that be a dumpster behind a restaurant or just a normal dumpster.

This particular smell had brought her to the site of a small, tin garbage can. It was hardly silver. More of a dirty, rusted gray that dulled the area around it. It was definitely something though. Selena knocked it to the floor with a bump of her weight. The can came clattering to the floor, the sound of success filling the air around her. She perked her ears, glancing around. The last thing he needed was his humans coming around that corner dragging him back to that black hole they called a home.

No one came, though. It was silent. The female tasting the air quickly, though it was clear she was downhill so she wouldn’t be able to detect anyone coming. She shrugged it off, turning toward the can she’d knocked to the floor. Inside was an assortment of foods, cans, and smelly socks. Nothing seemed to spark the Shepherd’s interest, though. It was just a boring can. With food. And nothing he needed thanks to those stupid humans who force him to eat. As if denying it meant he was sick. Suddenly, she heard the ear wrenching sound of something dragging on the ground, like a nail or other. She sat down, and sniffed the air to catch a whiff of what, or whoever is was that made the terrible noise. 'A male.' She thought to herself. "Oh great, that's all I need." Her eyes rolled, annoyed, she had just had an encounter with a fierce dog, who mocked her and chased her off. She got up and lied down beside the empty tin can so she wouldn't be seen.

[irony]

The distinct metal clang of a garbage can rang through the street. Kaptain’s ears perked. He froze, mid swipe of his paw against the gravel. Habit made his form change in the blink of an eye: Tail erect, legs stiff, stare hard. Both ears were swept up as high as they might, and he listened. There was no recent scent of man here, but rats and cats were always possibilities. He kept very still, quieted his breathing. He caught the last trail of another animal tapping paws against the ground. Definitely bigger than a rat or a cat.

Kaptain shook himself, his lips and ears flopping most obnoxiously with the action. He cast a quick look at his front feet. The nails were moderately better. Good enough for now, he’d work at them later. Couldn’t be making noise when there was someone else about. Watching or listening.

Snorting, Kaptain dropped his nose to the pavement and inhaled sharply. He snuffled around the area, legs moving automatically toward the myriad of smells.

A female. Faint, he obviously hadn’t crossed her path. Wasn’t strong enough to tell much about her, other than that she was near. He followed his nose downhill, passed the larger dumpsters to the alleyway. Her scent was much stronger here. He paused and lifted his head. No one was immediately visible, but the smell of a stranger was thick in the air. He had one hell of a sensitive nose, after all. He took a few steps forward, nostrils quivering.

She was… behind the garbage can.

His lips quirked upward and he tucked his hindquarters underneath himself. Shy girl, or nervy. One couldn’t be sure. He was happy to sit right where he was, hold his ground and not cause the poor gal any more discomfort than she was probably already feeling.

“I don’t bite,” he said. His voice was deep, a bit gravelly.

It was a lie, of course. He damn well did bite, but certainly not without provocation.

[DAKOTA]

Narrowed eyes watched the male as he approached her, a lean and smooth furred fellow he was, quit the odd of colors, she slightly tilted her head. The dots and specks all over his body, except for his head, which had a shine to the chocolate brown in the evening light, which Selena in particular found attractive. Yet, she was still to be cautious, noble looks made her all the more wary, for often with looks came pride, and with pride came a cocky and female using street mutt. Most of the time. She stared at his copper colored eyes, her ears flicked as he spoke in a low and deep manner, another favorite trait that came to call on her. Still trying to keep her mental distance from the stranger, she answered in her natural very feminine sounding voice. "Hm, like I'd let you." She felt she should let this male know she wasn't intimidated by him, this time she wasn't going to let any male push her around again. Sure she knew what she had said was seemingly the wrong thing, who knew, the stranger could be a fighter, or an omega type dog who would best stay out of fights. Whatever it was, she was ready to fight if needed, her hackles slightly raised as her eyes still squinted towards him. "So what do you want?"

[irony]

Hackles raised. Obviously not comfortable in the presence of another. Kaptain held his place, bumping his chin up a few scant centimeters, but he kept all four paws on the asphalt. He didn’t much care for the attitude in her voice, but he supposed her lashing out was out of fear – not a desire to be rude or aggressive. He’d met plenty of shepherds that were more interested in tearing off his face than turning tail from him, though.

He turned his gaze away from her – hoping to calm her down – and inhaled slow and steady once more.

“Heard a can get tipped over. Thought there might be some food to be had, or rats to chase.” He was a hunting dog, after all. A good chase got the blood flowing and the flanks heaving. But, in reality, he’d been interested in finding out what female was on the end of that scent trail. Kaptain hadn’t been on the streets for too many years, but he knew damn well that making noise was a good way to attract company – wanted or not.

That innate desire to play knight in shining armor to anyone in need had made him follow through with the search. And now that he’d seen her – cowering and frightened – he had a good mind to stay. After all, if Kaptain could hear that tin crash over his own noise, any other dog nearby was sure to have as well.