Literary Stray Dogs Novels & Stories

But the moment of peace didn’t last. Every now and then, as I turned a street corner, I’d spot at least one or two stray dogs just lying there like silent guardians of the road. Sometimes even three, grouped together like they were in some kind of gang. They just stared at me, eyes tracking my every move, like there were deciding whether or not I was worth chasing today. And because I had no interest in starring in my own chased-by-a-dog horror film, I’d slow down to a cautious walk, doing that thing where you pretend you’re invisible while also muttering a quiet prayer under your breath.

"Keeping an illegal breed without a leash? The owner should be jailed too!" That very day, Willow had just given birth when she came across the news. Tears streamed down her face, making Hunter's heart ache unbearably. "What's wrong? Why are you crying like this?" "Hunter, I… I just feel so sorry for the dog. Renee used it to fight for your attention, and now she's making it take the blame. They even broke its leg… It's so cruel… "They found it at an abandoned factory, which means it was a stray. A stray dog is like a child without a mother—no one to speak up for it."

"You’re sure about this?" Gideon asked, stepping onto the platform. "These aren't exactly 'people you can reason with,' Eloise. These are strays. They’ve been living on rat meat for months. You try to pet a stray, you usually lose a finger." "I'm not trying to pet them," I said, my voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "I'm offering them a path." I walked forward. I could smell them. They were huddled in the maintenance tunnels.

This was the edge of the Gray Zone, a lawless strip of territory where neither the Ashford Pack nor their rivals dared to enforce full order. "Look what walked out of the high-rise district," a raspy voice called from the shadows. Three figures emerged from the gloom. Their elongated fangs and yellow-tinted eyes marked them as feral rogues—wolves who had lost their pack standing and survived by preying on the weak. "She smells like the Ashfords, but there’s no wolf in her," another growled, stepping into the dim light of a flickering streetlamp. "A stray human toy. Let's see what she's carrying."

I stepped off the dais, closing the distance between us until Elara was forced back against the cold stone, trembling with a volatile mixture of rage and genuine, unadulterated fear. “You wanted to know if I’m a stray dog?” I whispered, letting the threat hang between us. “The thing about strays is they don't fight for points. They fight to the death. You’ve spent your life behind walls and shadows, Elara. You wouldn’t last five minutes in my world. And guess what? This is my world now.” I looked over at Eric, who looked like he wanted to dissolve into the floor. “Get out! Both of you. Right now!”

By then, when the new orphanage sent their people to recruit the children and the bureaucracy set up the arrangement, this old orphanage would be done for. “Oh yeah, I think there’s something else that’s kinda strange about this too.” While Javier was mulling over this, Russell brought up something else. He said, “When you left that day, a stray dog came. “It had fun with us initially, but it somehow went to play with Madam Hellman and clung to her after that, ignoring all of us. It’d even bare its teeth and snarl at whoever approached it, just like Clover.” “Who’s Clover?” Javier asked in confusion.

Lewis crouched down, extending his hand through the fence to gently brush away the strands of hair clinging to Josephine's face. Then he said, "But you frequently visited Quintin's dogs. I thought you liked dogs. Could it be that you only like his dogs?" Josephine vigorously shook her head. These were entirely different situations. Quintin's dogs were gentle, domesticated strays, resembling more like beloved pets. However, Lewis' dogs were of a different breed altogether. They were hunting dogs—fierce and capable of devouring a person. And if her eyes didn't deceive her, the dogs in the cages appeared to be wolves. Why would he choose to keep such menacing creatures?

“No, nothing. I mean, I found a stray dog, but that’s about it.” “A stray?” The way she said the words made it sound as if Gail told her she picked up a hitchhiker. “Gail, you know those animals aren’t safe. Who knows what kind of history they have. So many dogs there are scarred with trauma. They are like ticking time bombs.”

"So you'd know if someone like a were was in the area and was . . . what's the word, a lone wolf?" Renata nodded. "We call them strays at that point, but yeah. Why?" "Something Sebastian said. I kind of doubted it, but --" "What was it?" "The whole morning star thing. Seeing as there's a lot of faerie disappearances down in Lacroix's area, he was wondering if Lacroix might be involved. But it'd be a great way to find 'components' wouldn't it? I mean, imagine a stray comes into the area . . . someone who wouldn't be missed."

I got up to go down to the corner store to grab some food for it and it followed me behind from a distance. We return with some food which I'm not sure is the most pet hungry but the dog laps up and I chuckle at how he was eating it with so much vigor and I open the bag of chips I got from the store too. "So how did you become homeless and a stray?" The dog didn't bother answering it just shifted to a more comfortable position. "Well then, let me tell you how I became a stray and homeless. I fell in love with a boy with the most beautiful brown eyes." The dog barked and I chuckled.