RUFF! RUFF-RUFF! R-R-RUFF!
“Shut up, dog! Get in there now!”
The small puppy was thrown into his small cage, lying on his side with small lash wounds on his furry brown back, panting and breathing heavily.
The small brown puppy waited for the footsteps to disappear before he stumbled to his small feet.
“Are you okay, big brother?” asked a fellow puppy, who sat curled in the corner.
“Yeah…” breathed the dog, spitting blood and venom. “I’m fine…”
“You don’t look fine, Brian,” whimpered the little brother.
“Well, I will be – tonight.”
“What’s happening tonight?” came a voice from above.
“I’m escaping from here!” shouted Brian at the top of his lungs.
The dogs’ laughs reverberated throughout the dark room, the only light coming in from the barred windows.
“Shut up!” barked Brian.
“Say, Brian,” said the younger brother, “are we really gonna escape?”
“Yeah, Vinnie… we are.”
“Yeah, tell us how, little Mr. Tubman?” called the caged dog above.
“We’re gonna kill the man who’s keeping us here, whipping us and hurting us.”
The room was silent and Brian just stood there on his wobbly, bloody legs. One eye was shut and the other was displaying blurry vision.
“Kill… him?” said the same voice finally.
“What, scared, ‘big dog?‘” teased Brian. “Thought you used to be a wild rottweiler for a gang. Did they neuter you or did you just get too old and chicken?”
“You’re surprisingly rebellious for a beaten pup, boy,” stated the rottweiler.
“That’s ‘cuz I ain’t dead! I hate this guy, I hate this place! The things they do to us, feed us, and say to us! They treat us worse than dirt and I hate it! I don’t get to run in the grass anymore, chase the butterflies, and sleep with the trees. I wanna leave, don’t you?! Don’t any of you?!”
The room fell to silence and hit the other breeds of dogs hard.
“Do you… really believe we can do it?” asked another dog from across him.
“Hell yeah!” shouted Brian, running up to his cage bars. “He’s no better than us! Just ‘cuz he’s got a whip made from cows doesn’t mean a thing! There’s not a single stinkin’ human here that has the right to hurt any of us and if they do, we should kill them dead! NO ONE has the right to disturb us like that, to beat us like that! It’s your right to fight! To kill any who hurt you, who fight you, who bite you, harm you, and step on your kids! You hear me?! Don’t be afraid of these weak bastards! Not them… FIGHT!”
“Yeah!” shouted the dogs.
“We should kill ’em!”
“Make ’em all bleed!”
“Will I get to have steak again?”
“So, little ridah,” said the rottweiler, “now that you’ve gotten the people all riled up and ready for war, what do you plan to do?”
Brian just smirked, glancing at his little brother, who nodded and wagged his tail enthusiastically. “Listen, up, everyone! Here’s how it‘s going to go down…”
“Goddamnit, you stinkin’ mutts!”
In came the overweight, greasy faced owner and his three sons, all lanky and ugly.
WOOF, WOOF, WOOF!
“Shut up, damn it!”
The owner banged against a few of the cages but that only provoked the dogs further.
“Ugh, for fu- take these damn dogs out and check ’em, got it?”
“Yes, boss,” replied the boys in unison.
Four of the men each went to different cages and opened them. They looked over the dogs, who began to quiet down slightly, before turning their attention to another cage, leaving the previous one still open.
“Now!” shouted Brian.
All the dogs from the previously checked cages jumped from their small prisons and attacked the men from behind, chewing into their necks and flesh.
Brian himself went after the owner, ran between his legs, jumped as high as he could, and took a nice crunch on two very malleable objects.
“AAHHH!” squealed the owner, tears streaming down his red face as he fell over, cupping his groin.
With teeth, ingenuity, and raw coordination, the attack dogs released the remaining canines, baring their fangs in victory to each other.
“To freedom!” announced Brian, leading the escape from the room.
With panting breath and pattering paws, the pups and dogs raced upstairs into the main hall and sprinted to the open back door. And there it was – light.
Brian grinned, old flesh wounds and blood on his fur, as he and his friends ran into the sidewalks and streets; out in the alleyways and gardens; out into the world that greeted them with light.
Like a mother’s breast, the light was warm and nurturing, coating them comfortingly with open arms and a melodious tune in the air – almost like a heartbeat.
Brian looked down at his little brother, who smiled toothily right back at him.
And the brothers ran on, freedom sugaring their salty wounds.
Original Image: http://media2.fdncms.com/clevescene/imager/caged-how-ohio-politicians-keep-the-states-puppy-mill-business-booming-wi/u/zoom/3613840/cover-4.jpg