exactly what the title tells you.
// kind of done writing this, as my styles and interests have changed. new books to come for these sorts of writings.
Before this chapter, I think it's important for me to state that I have nothing against Pitbulls. I absolutely love them and I don't think they're vicious or aggressive - I just so happened to make the dog in this story a Pitbull.
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Thanks for reading!
- Hiiccup
.:-----:.
Monty lay nestled into the lap of his twoleg, purring softly. The warm feeling of the twolegs hand brushing repeatedly over his shoulders and flank sent content over him like a wave. He looked up at the twoleg as she stood, setting him gently onto the couch. He let out a sharp miaow of protest, reaching out a paw in hopes to stop her from leaving him. The male twoleg was still settled across the room on the chair, but moving over there was completely out of Monty's interest.
Monty would usually have taken the chance immediately, but tonight it was fairly different. At the feet of his male twoleg lay a large white and brown dog. It's tail wagged, something Monty interpreted as content. The dogs black collar shifted on its broad shoulders as it looked up at the cat, who growled low in response.
He didn't like the dog for many reasons. For one - it was a dog. He didn't want anything to do with any type of dog. He also knew for a fact that the dog was stupid. Like, insanely stupid. If he meowed something to it, it barked in response! Monty had learned to pick up its body language and what it was trying to tell him - which wasn't difficult, considering it was constantly asking to play - but the dog didn't understand anything when he returned the favor. His tail would lash repeatedly side to side but the dog would bark and chase it, or he'd swat a warning paw at his muzzle and the dog would lift up its front paws in response.
Rolling his eyes, Monty turned over so that his back was to the dog and huffed, curling up. Setting his head on his paws, he sighed and glared at his paws where a silver tag lay, holding his name. It was hooked to a blue collar with minty splotches, something the twolegs had granted him when they welcomed him in to their home.
The dog came a few months after, nothing more than a clumsy puppy.
The dog sat up and scratched at an ear, tongue lolling out from the side of its mouth. Monty picked his head up, turning to see the canine as it stared intently back. The male twoleg had dozed off and didn't see nor feel the tension in the air as Monty slowly rose to his feet, the fur along his spine sticking up in a ridge.
The dog stood too, a grin spread over its face. Drool slipped from its tongue, and Monty sneered in utter disgust. How could someone live like that; constantly slobbering all over the ground and their feet? It was all so gross...
He turned and leapt onto the top of the couch, padding neatly along until he came to the edge. Jumping down, the tom cat strolled around the corner and into the kitchen, where his female twoleg was preparing a drink. He sent her a meow of greeting, continuing his way towards the porch to his water bowl, having grown thirsty himself.
