Post by Panic.Rose on Jan 18, 2010 13:16:37 GMT -5
Battle-Scarred Lullaby
My name may or may not be Engels. Okay, it is. So sue me for being smart.
You say it as Aang-uls
I am known only as Engels. Can’t do much with that, can you?
I am 5 Years of Age/b]
Considering the fact I am not a dude, I am Female.
I seem to be a English Shepherd
I look pretty good, I guess. Here’s the proof: I’m an average sized dog, with not-too long legs and a body that is again, average in length. My coat is sort of smooth and silky. It’s soft and some places and feathery and others. It’s a trait that comes with the breed. My base coat is a pretty milk-white with a blanket of deer-like tan over-top of it. I have a white muzzle and a white blaze that runs between my big brown eyes. My back legs are tan until you get to my back paws, which are white. My ears are tan amd flop over my head. The fur on them is feathery and silky. My muzzles is kind of long and ends in a shiny black nose. My tail is medium-length and is also covered in silky fur, like my ears. I appear to be always smiling, even when I’m sad. I have sharp white teeth that I’m not afraid to use if threatened. My claws are kind of long and black. There is a white band that wraps around my neck and connects to my chest, which is also white. I have scars all over me, that come from my past. They make me look more terrifying than I am.
Now, this is what I call a personality!
I’m a bit on the skittish and un-trusting side. I fear humans and cages and bigger, meaner dogs. Other than that, I’m friendly and playful. I’ve admitted the fact that I have trust-issues. You really have to prove yourself to me for me to follow you wherever you go. I need a good reason to really go anywhere these days with anyone. Once I get to know you, and know I can fully trust you, I’ll be your best friends. I’m severely loyal and protective of my friends, once I have them. I’m tough and quite the fighter. Once I get on, I Don’t get off until I’ve won. I’m competitive, but jumpy. I’d rather run from a fight than participate, but I’m a deadly fighter when I need to be.
I have a history worth repeating.
Grab some Kleenex, you’ll need them for this sob story.
I was born in a puppy mill, no doubt about it. Cages upon cages of pregnant females and intact males. There was never any room to move, seeing as I was packed in a cage with my sisters, Patty and Chatter. Our little paws were worn raw until we were all sold off or separated for different purposes. Chatter was treated like a princess and then sold to some guy who payed quite the sum for a rare breed pup. Patty was kept for breeding purposes, as she was the most beautiful out of all of us, with her rich chestnut markings and big eyes. I was bought by an owner of a dog-fighting ring. What use would a shepherd puppy be to him, you wonder. I was bait for the bigger dogs, to train them to be vicious fighting machines, killers. I learned, quite quickly, to fight back. Where to bite and hang on and not let go until the fight was over. Soon I was winning, and my scars healed, though they still showed.. I ran away as soon as I got the chance, after defeating the best dog they had. No one had ever seen me move so fast. I ran for days, never stopping until I knew my past was far behind me. Bruised and beaten, I finally slowed, but only to hunt. That small town must’ve had a rodent problem, because I ate for days with no problem.
I rested to let my scars heal some more and though I still looked like a fighting dog I moved on. The city, surprisingly, seemed like a welcome place to be. It was huge enough that I didn’t see any other dogs for a few weeks. I soon ran into some, but they didn’t want to mess with me. I guess it was my haunted expression and battle scars. I’m still alone, but I’m a survivor. Never give up.
My name may or may not be Engels. Okay, it is. So sue me for being smart.
You say it as Aang-uls
I am known only as Engels. Can’t do much with that, can you?
I am 5 Years of Age/b]
Considering the fact I am not a dude, I am Female.
I seem to be a English Shepherd
I look pretty good, I guess. Here’s the proof: I’m an average sized dog, with not-too long legs and a body that is again, average in length. My coat is sort of smooth and silky. It’s soft and some places and feathery and others. It’s a trait that comes with the breed. My base coat is a pretty milk-white with a blanket of deer-like tan over-top of it. I have a white muzzle and a white blaze that runs between my big brown eyes. My back legs are tan until you get to my back paws, which are white. My ears are tan amd flop over my head. The fur on them is feathery and silky. My muzzles is kind of long and ends in a shiny black nose. My tail is medium-length and is also covered in silky fur, like my ears. I appear to be always smiling, even when I’m sad. I have sharp white teeth that I’m not afraid to use if threatened. My claws are kind of long and black. There is a white band that wraps around my neck and connects to my chest, which is also white. I have scars all over me, that come from my past. They make me look more terrifying than I am.
Now, this is what I call a personality!
I’m a bit on the skittish and un-trusting side. I fear humans and cages and bigger, meaner dogs. Other than that, I’m friendly and playful. I’ve admitted the fact that I have trust-issues. You really have to prove yourself to me for me to follow you wherever you go. I need a good reason to really go anywhere these days with anyone. Once I get to know you, and know I can fully trust you, I’ll be your best friends. I’m severely loyal and protective of my friends, once I have them. I’m tough and quite the fighter. Once I get on, I Don’t get off until I’ve won. I’m competitive, but jumpy. I’d rather run from a fight than participate, but I’m a deadly fighter when I need to be.
I have a history worth repeating.
Grab some Kleenex, you’ll need them for this sob story.
I was born in a puppy mill, no doubt about it. Cages upon cages of pregnant females and intact males. There was never any room to move, seeing as I was packed in a cage with my sisters, Patty and Chatter. Our little paws were worn raw until we were all sold off or separated for different purposes. Chatter was treated like a princess and then sold to some guy who payed quite the sum for a rare breed pup. Patty was kept for breeding purposes, as she was the most beautiful out of all of us, with her rich chestnut markings and big eyes. I was bought by an owner of a dog-fighting ring. What use would a shepherd puppy be to him, you wonder. I was bait for the bigger dogs, to train them to be vicious fighting machines, killers. I learned, quite quickly, to fight back. Where to bite and hang on and not let go until the fight was over. Soon I was winning, and my scars healed, though they still showed.. I ran away as soon as I got the chance, after defeating the best dog they had. No one had ever seen me move so fast. I ran for days, never stopping until I knew my past was far behind me. Bruised and beaten, I finally slowed, but only to hunt. That small town must’ve had a rodent problem, because I ate for days with no problem.
I rested to let my scars heal some more and though I still looked like a fighting dog I moved on. The city, surprisingly, seemed like a welcome place to be. It was huge enough that I didn’t see any other dogs for a few weeks. I soon ran into some, but they didn’t want to mess with me. I guess it was my haunted expression and battle scars. I’m still alone, but I’m a survivor. Never give up.
