Dog Anatomy Book Novels & Stories

Ryan asks quietly, though I doubt shouting would wake this dead-to-the-world puppy. I look up at him and smile. "Yes. It was a very good surprise. Thank you." Ryan looks away and a smile graces his lips. "I thought you didn't want a dog, though." He is quiet for a moment, looking at his hands. "I thought a dog might be good for you," he says finally. "Maybe for me too." Ryan reaches into the box and pulls out a book titled Your Samoyed and You. He opens the book and begins to read silently. My eyes widen at the picture of a large, fluffy white dog on the front.

Its eyes glowed amber in the moonlight, fixed on her with an intensity that made her stomach flip. She should've run. Should've screamed. Should've done something. But she couldn't move. The dog stopped a few feet away, its massive head tilting to one side. Its gaze dropped to the book on the ground. How to Train Your Dog. The dog made a sound.....low and rumbling, almost like... laughter? No. That was insane. dogs didn't laugh. Elara swallowed hard, her hands gripping the edges of the hammock. Her voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper.

But since I didn't know what I was looking for, I turned back and went to ask the librarian for help. “Where can I find books on canines?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as quiet as possible. The librarian gave a warm smile. “Are we talking dogs, or wolves and foxes?” “All of them.” “Nonfiction’s in the 590s. Start with 599.77 for wild canines. Pets are over in 636.7.” “Thanks.” I went back to the section, my fingers tracing along the spines in the 599 section, pausing as the gold lettering of Canidae: The Wild Family caught my eye. Sliding it free, she carried it back to my corner table.

She then left to store the book where it should be. She then checked up on Foxley, who was sleeping on the big dog bed in his room. Gulper, the Tibetan Mastiff puppy, was next to him. It was as if it wouldn’t sleep there without getting close to him. A smile drew on Delta’s lips before walking back to her room.

I asked. She nodded, “Come, I’ll show you.” As we approached the kennel, the racket became ear-splitting. I stared in fascination at the majestic beasts- a St. Bernard, a Labrador, four Russian Shepherds and a pair of German Shepherds. Kneeling down, she put her long, beautiful left hand through the bars and stroked their throats, one by one. “See, Alexei has come,” she told them in a calming tone. As they became quiet, I couldn’t help but wonder how the seemingly illiterate dogs had figured out her statement. A reasonably literate Alexei had no clue.

Mateo I walked on the snowy path that curved upwards to the Castel. Jellyfish, one of the more friendly Granuben hounds, bowed and wagged her black shaggy tail at me. I stopped to pet her on the head, and she growled happily. She sniffed at my vellum sketchbook and sank her massive jaws into the cover. “Argh! No! Bad dog! Let go,” I told her firmly. She released the book in dejection, and I grimaced as I wiped off the drool from the cover.

I have to focus. Quip immediately ran to the other side of the room and started sniffing around. It stood there, looking confused, turning back and forth between me and the door. For a moment, I was reminded of something I read in a book once. A dog that doesn't know where its home is will start searching for it. That might be exactly what this monster is doing right now. He saw me as his "home." "Okay," I said aloud. "Let's go home, shall we?"

Tears rolled down his face. The ring of wolves around him glanced at each other and moved in closer. A black wolf with a notched ear cocked his head, moved forward slowly and used his nose to push the rogue onto his back. He growled when the Beta didn't move fast enough. The black wolf stared at the his eyes. He looked away and laid on his back, pulling his head back to bare his throat. The black wolf opened his mouth and held the male by the neck. He growled and bit down enough to keep hold and shook his prey who remained absolutely still.

BELLA Three in the afternoon. The sunlight cast a beam across the yellowed pages of "Canine Behavior and Clinical Care" that Dr. Miller had lent me. I sat cross-legged on the bedroom carpet, holding the brick-thick old book. "Aggressive behavior triggers... territorial awareness... pack hierarchy..." My finger traced through the table of contents until my gaze stopped on a chapter thirteen title: "The Influence of Moon Phases on Wolves." "Moon phases?" I paused, remembering last night's full moon and that howling, violent wolf.

“It’s a dog. Big. Black. Mean. A Doberman. It wants to eat me.” I screamed, trying to climb higher on his chest. “Where are you trying to climb? Do I look like a tree?” His voice was sharp as he tightened his grip to keep balance, pulling a small moan from me. “He’s calm. Friendly. He has never attacked anyone… unless I give him the order,” he said reassuringly. I studied his face from this dangerous closeness. His breath. His scent. He was distracting enough to make me forget the dog. “I bet he just wanted to play with you.”