What the--!
The weather had been blindingly bright and sunny for the past three days and suddenly, out of no where, it began to down pour. Of course, just as she was nearing the end of her short journey from the country and into the city. By the time she’d made it to any kind of shelter she’d been soaked to the marrow. She didn’t she’d continue to the city instead of waste her time.
But still! What kind of nonsense was it to start raining after three clear days? Occasionally she’d pause to glance between the interlocking branches above, glaring at the slivers of gray sky and wondering if someone was meddling with the fortune and laughing at her sad state. She could just imagine how downtrodden and pathetic she looked.
If there was some luck to her circumstance someone would find her even more appealing to their sympathy and she’d wiggle into the hearts of any stranger who liked dogs. Of course, whether it required wiggling or storming in with all the finesse of an explosion it didn’t matter. Finch was tired of the relaxed lull and routine of country life. Being a farm dog was only sating for so long and before long her paws were itchy again.
The city called and she answered.
Really, Finch never stayed anywhere too long. She’d arrived at the farm about three months before only an equally dismal day and stuck around, playing her part in the daily routine of farm life. She herded, babysat and guarded like any good dog would. Before that she had a short stint in the court of some noble’s fief. Her job was â€"well, she hadn’t figured that out. Sometimes she played with kids, performed like a monkey [or dog she guessed with some mild amusement], and other days she went along on hunts. Before that she was a house pet in the city, for what she suspected nearly two years. And before that… well, Finch never liked to recall the past for longer than necessary. And none of those memories were necessary to ‘now’.
She grunted with effort, pushing through a shrub that less than kindly grappled at her thick coat and solid legs, trying to drag her back. In her mind she muttered various colorful epithets she learned from a long line of working class owners. On the other side, peering into the edges of a city she shook off parts of the forest that clung to her and the rain. At least it was lightening to a steady drizzle.
With bright blue eyes she glanced up at the sky again. She snorted. The day was gray, her large, bat like ears cocking at the distant rumble of thunder and the quick flashes of lightning that lit up the sky. Finch shook her head briefly before trotting into the city, determined to find something or someone of interest. It was raining. She wanted out of it. She was so eager for something other than rain that she even passed up the chance to chase a cat from its warm hiding place. Even her, for a horrible moment, could sympathize with the feline.
People hurried along the streets, calling children to their sides while wagons and carriages clattered past. She narrowly avoided them, cursing them silently but holding back a snarl. Startling the horses wouldn’t be quite fair under the circumstances. The poor beasts were pulling wagons and they no more wanted to be in the rain then she did.
Her tongue lolled from her broad muzzle, curling to lap at her nose as she sat, tucked against a wall beneath an overhang of a building. Leaning up and peering into a window her short tail swung behind her unable to even reach her hocks as the first inkling of an idea began forming.
Dropping down to all four paws she studied the door. It was closed. She snorted her contempt â€" if she changed forms she’d have the hands and thumbs but, well, that’d be a hitch in her plans. Changing to human and being naked in the cold and revealing she was a shape-shifter would certainly cause some minor problems with the plans she envisioned. Instead she skulked around the corner, hunkering down behind some decrepit wooden crates, belly scraping dirt and watched the door.
Someone would be looking for warmth. A drink to warm their insides from a miserable day of work. Someone would be looking for the latest gossip and people would be looking for a distraction from the dreary weather. People would be drinking for lack of anything better to do and their tongues would loosen and so would their minds. They might be a little more accepting to a dog in their midst. Meanwhile she’d be able to eavesdrop on conversations.
And that always proved fairly amusing.
So she waited. She didn’t know how long she’d crouched their, focused completely with a single-minded determined until someone finally opened the door. Finch stood suddenly, tripping over her large paws and ignoring the protest of cramped muses. Instead she skittered after the man, keeping close but sliding in behind him.
People saw her â€"how could they not? She wasn’t terribly big, her shoulders being level with most people’s knees, but it was hard to miss a rectangularish dog with bat ears, short tail with a white tip, shaggy brown fur that curled at the ends, big paws and brilliant blue eyes. She was a little noticeable. And she was damned cute.
Finch twitched her ears, her lips pulled back in a dog smile â€"one that hid all her teeth. Her large eyes splayed as she wandered from table to table, tail wagging as she bumped people’s elbows [when they weren’t drowning themselves in liquor or eating]. She didn’t beg but she certainly made efforts to look cute as she made her rounds and settled into the corner. Even the bartender didn’t seem to mind too much â€"as long as she didn’t go near him or bother his customers and preferably stayed in the corner the entirety of the night.
Well, that wouldn’t be happening.
Stretched in the corner, listening to snippets of conversation she dozed, paws twitching as she slipped between dreams and reality. The sudden scrape of a nearby chair being pushed back abruptly brought her jumping to her feet, hackles stiff as her head lowered between her shoulders. When she realized it was nothing to be alarmed at and earned a few laughs from those who saw she went back to being the friendly homely little stray that’d wandered in from the cold.
Finch had long abandoned rhyme or reason when she quested for new homes or even food. She wandered around the room, getting offered scraps and trotting up to a young man. She sat and rested her muzzle on his knee. She could hardly say there had been any compelling reason to do so â€"it’s just what she did. It was more exciting to do it at random rather then study the people around her. And the small fact that she lacked patience for a great many things and choosing owners and people was definitely one of them. If, at a later date she wanted or needed to escape she would. Until then, might as well have a little fun.
She whined and thumped her tail against the floor, staring up with wide eyes. ‘You know I’m adorable. You know you want a dog as cute as me. Give in to the urge,’ she thought sweetly, amusing herself as she wagged her tail.
[here ya go Gold! How could your boy refuse such a cute dog? XD She looks more or less like an overgrown corgi with a longer tail that’s an two or three inches away from her hocks. Hehe]
