[ For a long while now, Alby's been in this form. It's not really that odd to him, to live his life as a dog - the dog food is not nearly as bad when you've got a different set of tastebuds and don't cling to your dignity as if you don't shit outside on the grass. It's a lot easier, in a lot of ways. Especially since humans don't really expect much of you, in the end. Just a companion, or a fighter, or a guard dog. Whatever they want, it's a pretty easy expectation.
It was how he wound up in a fighting ring for a while, although it was exhausting. He's not - he has a temper, he knows it. He always has. But he's not temperamental enough for a dogfighter. He just did it to survive, though he still doesn't know what he's surviving for except to just do it. But then the operation was busted, and he was sent to a shelter. It was a mistake, and he knows it, that he wasn't sent to a high-kill shelter. A mixup in the papers.
But he meets Newt there. And Newt, apparently seeing something in him that no one else did, adopts him.
Life is pretty easy with Newt. Newt treats him really well, better than any past owners have, and he talks to him. They actually hold conversations, in a way, and Alby pretends that he's trained and not a human in a Rottweiler's body. He opens doors for him, gets his leash when they're about to go out, gets the cane that Newt hates when the weather is bad enough that his entire body aches.
And, today, he knows that something is wrong. Alby can always tell when Newt is particularly upset, but he was practically mute this morning. It's when he goes to his room to get ready for work and takes too long that the shapeshifter worries, hopping off the sofa and heading into the bedroom with a butt of his head against the door. Their building has a fire escape, and that's where Alby goes when he discovers the window open. His claws click dully against the metal, and he moves immediately to where Newt sits on the ledge.
It's dangerous for both of them to be there, but he doesn't hesitate to weasel forward, putting his considerable bulk in Newt's lap without any notice in advance. ]
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pops the cherry
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It was how he wound up in a fighting ring for a while, although it was exhausting. He's not - he has a temper, he knows it. He always has. But he's not temperamental enough for a dogfighter. He just did it to survive, though he still doesn't know what he's surviving for except to just do it. But then the operation was busted, and he was sent to a shelter. It was a mistake, and he knows it, that he wasn't sent to a high-kill shelter. A mixup in the papers.
But he meets Newt there. And Newt, apparently seeing something in him that no one else did, adopts him.
Life is pretty easy with Newt. Newt treats him really well, better than any past owners have, and he talks to him. They actually hold conversations, in a way, and Alby pretends that he's trained and not a human in a Rottweiler's body. He opens doors for him, gets his leash when they're about to go out, gets the cane that Newt hates when the weather is bad enough that his entire body aches.
And, today, he knows that something is wrong. Alby can always tell when Newt is particularly upset, but he was practically mute this morning. It's when he goes to his room to get ready for work and takes too long that the shapeshifter worries, hopping off the sofa and heading into the bedroom with a butt of his head against the door. Their building has a fire escape, and that's where Alby goes when he discovers the window open. His claws click dully against the metal, and he moves immediately to where Newt sits on the ledge.
It's dangerous for both of them to be there, but he doesn't hesitate to weasel forward, putting his considerable bulk in Newt's lap without any notice in advance. ]