Striker and Reign are twin german shepherds both born with thick, dark black fur, their only visual difference being their eye colors: Striker with a dark magenta color, and Reign with bright, almost glowing, green. The pair are strays, living on the streets of San Francisco, (this world is a bit more dystopian than the one we know) who spend most days stalking the shadows of their city and avoiding animal control. They’ve been living like this for as long as they can remember and have gotten used to the rough and cut-throat lifestyle of street dogs. But one day, something changes, and the duo gets an opportunity to give the chance they were neve given to start with.
***
Running full sprint through the rough streets of San Francisco City was decidedly NOT how Striker thought he and his brother, Reign, would be starting their morning, but, living the life they did, it wasn’t exactly an unusual start.
The pair had just been innocently rummaging through the dumpsters behind a restaurant when suddenly they were jumped by a group of animal control officers. Upon sighting them, Striker barked at his brother to cut and run and they soon found themselves sprinting down hard sidewalks, weaving through pedestrians, and being chased by what must have been at least five Catchers. Striker resisted the urge to laugh as he and Reign easily escaped them.
A few blocks away, the two finally stopped after turning into a shadowed dead end alleyway, panting from the exertion. After a moment, Reign flopped to the ground and stretched out on his side, but kept his eyes and pointed black ears facing the entrance of the grimey space. Striker sat down next to him and scanned the rest of the ally, clearing for possible threats. Being a street dog, you learned a thing or two about staying alert, even in those what could allegedly be called safe places.
As it turned out, he was correct.
Snap!
Striker’s ears swiveled towards the sound and his head quickly followed as he jumped up to face the source of the sound. His brother followed suit. Reign glanced sideways and met Striker’s eyes, conveying a silent message. Striker nodded slightly and the two advanced, slowly and silently, down the alleyway, fanning out as to corner whatever they were facing.
A clattering sound rang out from one of the trash bins as it fell over, spilling garbage across the ground.
Striker let out a low snarl and Reign’s lips peeled back, revealing long, viscously sharp, white fangs.
One of the bags that had spilled out of the trash bin shifted, and a small mewling sound emanated from underneath it. The twins stalked forward and were about to pounce, but the bag suddenly shifted again and both of them took a cautionary step back, still on high alert.
Then, before either of the dogs could take action, a small animal squirmed out from underneath the bag. Reign stepped back, clearly startled, and Striker gritted his teeth, blinking the shock away. Neither of them had expected what they found.
The kitten shambled forward, towards Striker, mewling pitifully. Both Striker and Reign walked backwards to avoid the small creature stumbling around at their paws, which were huge in comparison to the cat’s own size. After a few moments of being cautiously avoided, the kitten slipped on its own little paws and flopped pathetically to the ground. Striker took a step forward and looked down at the pitiful creature. As its big blue eyes met his, Striker couldn’t help but feel bad for it.
Now that the cat was somewhat still, Striker got a chance to better examine its condition. The thing had messy fur so dirty he couldn’t discern its color, aforementioned blue eyes, and a teeny black nose.
Against his own will, Striker felt a small smile spreading across his muzzle. When he looked up, Reign was giving him a sad look.
“What?” Striker asked, “What’s that face for?”
Regin sighed and dropped his gaze, “You’re gonna say ‘we can’t just leave it here’, but we can. We should. You and I barely sustain ourselves. This is no life for a kitten.”
Striker hadn’t thought about that. Reign was always the quiet, logical one who followed their instincts, whereas Striker more followed his heart. The consideration that he and his brother might not be able to care for a kitten hadn’t even begun to cross Stiker’s mind. It was true though, the chances of this cat surviving under their watch were slim. But if they left it here, it would almost certainly be lost. Maybe it would wander out to the street and get picked up by a human, but the odds of it reaching a fast end on the roadside were even more likely.
“Maybe we can at least get it somewhere safer?”
The hopefulness threaded through Striker’s voice had Reign caught between a rock and a hard place, so to speak. He knew they probably wouldn’t succeed, humans were ruthless creatures, it would be a complicated matter, trying to find the right one. But Reign also loved and respected his brother enough to follow him anywhere.
Eventually, against his better judgment, Reign stepped forward and gently lifted the kitten by the scruff of its neck.
“Come on. . .” He begrudgingly mumbled through a mouthful of grubby cat fur. He didn’t have to look back to feel the happiness radiating off Striker as he followed him out of the shadows.
As soon as Reign stepped out into the light of the open street, a human off to his left somewhere gasped and shuffled back, probably shocked at the massive pure black german shepherd that had just appeared in front of them.
Looking left, then right, Reign, followed by Striker, started walking down the sidewalk. Mostly, they passed uninterrupted, aside from the odd startled citizen and a few other street dogs. That was one of the upsides to the twins’ outward appearances. Most anyone who ever laid eyes on them was afraid of them. There were a few downsides to that though. For one, it meant they were alone all the time. Just Reign and Striker on their own against the world. For two, that would make it all the harder for them to find a good home for their new . . . friend.
Neither of them really knew where they should go, so, as they walked, Reign started to let his mind wander and his feet fell into a lazy pattern that easily kept him and his brother going at a relatively slow pace. Until, that is, he was stopped dead in his tracks.
(Come back soon for the next installment of Staying Pawsitive.)
