Retarded Dogs Novels & Stories

"You just answered your own question. Do you know the rules? You can't associate with soldiers, or do I have to call the general?" Silencer stuck out his tongue, exposing the missing four from teeth. He then moved his lips to Claire's ears. "There's a story I like to tell; this dog thought he could bite everything until he lost his teeth and became a stray dog. No one wanted him; never bark at your owners who knows they can put you out when your worthiness becomes unworthy." Claire stood up, as well as Marcus, "that's enough, silencer."

she said, approaching a large kennel to the side, near the cat cages. “Why is that?” Brady asked as she paused in front of the largest cage he’d seen yet. Inside, several black dogs, most of them forty or fifty pounds or more, many with gray or white patches around their snouts and eyes, started back at him. “They have a much smaller chance of ever getting adopted,” she explained. It was clear from her expression that she was heartbroken about the situation. “Not only do people prefer smaller dogs, they tend to think that black dogs are more aggressive. It’s called Black Dog Syndrome. Some people say it’s just a myth, but as you can see, it’s true here.”

He said, and she laughed. “I wouldn’t say hard but understand these guys are different. They are going to need to be trained. In the process, expect to have your shoes chewed. Cords cut through. Basically, it will be like having a baby but a baby who can’t speak or really understand you, ever.” She said. “Can you train them?” he asked. “I can try.” She said. “We may need some help with this one though. They are going to need exercise as well. They will need walks or runs when they are older. Did you see the mother dog?”

He found it amusing that he had just arrived in Westfell and already encountered something so interesting. Skipper came to his feet at this moment, rubbed against his leg, and wagged his tail almost ready to take off. He was a little curious, "Why did Skipper and Private save her?" "Young master forgot? Skipper and Private were both creatures bred in the research institute, unlike ordinary dog breeds. They were stronger in physique, higher in intelligence, exceptionally fierce, and had a sensitivity to drugs beyond the ordinary. They must have smelled the scent of drugs." Skipper's tail wagged.

I grinned and he rolled his eyes. “But we aren’t dogs.” He shrugged. He didn’t seem offended by my teasing and I really wanted to know everything about them. Deep down a voice was screaming at me to be scared, but I couldn’t help myself. I was completely and utterly intrigued by them. “We age a lot slower than normal humans. We aren’t immortal like vampires, but we can grow pretty old in human years.” I nodded. It made sense. Even their people who looked a little older seemed young at heart and I leaned back against him while we sat looking at his people having fun.

The golden retriever continued to bark, each one louder than the last and the old lady crouched to pet it, baffled as to why the animal was acting strangely. I once read about a dog that went mad after moving in with a family that were victims of a poltergeist disturbance. It was one of the reasons why I had never thought of getting a pet and I watched the blind woman continue to pet the animal in a bid to calm it down sadly. It was best I went in now. I ran up to the door and pounded, hoping for the best, hope was all we had now. I could hear movements from inside the house and despite the cool evening, I felt a beads to sweat soak my gray dress shirt.

He said and I glared at him. "Dogs or cats?" I asked. "Dogs, cats are lazy and stupid sometimes." "Agree, dogs are cute. Big dogs or small dogs?" "Big dogs, belgian malinois." "What kind of dog is that? I've never heard it." Is that even a dog breed?. "Look for it, it's a police dog. Police use it to track drugs." "It's not cute." I stated after look at the photos. "Do you think I will like poodle?" He said sarcasticly.

I'm even being nice and capitalizing your name OF: YOU BETTER TAKE THAT SH*T BACK AJ: No OF: I’M NOT A GIANT DOG SL: You are a Wolf hybrid WG: To be fair, they have a point... WG: According to scientists, the dogs are descended from the Gray wolf, domesticated about 130,000 years ago. WG: You are a Northwestern Gray Wolf... OF: I. AM. NOT. A. GIANT. DOG. OF: TAKE IT BACK AJ: STOP F*CKING YELLING

Xander The evening sun bathed the backyard in hues of amber and gold. I sat in my wheelchair, my usual place, with my usual boredom, watching two Rottweilers sprint around the field. Except, this wasn’t just their regular play. The dogs were chasing a man. A bloody, beaten man in nothing but a pair of tattered boxers. His screams echoed across the yard as he scrambled, stumbling and crying out in desperation. They lunged at him like hunters closing in on prey, their sharp teeth tearing at his legs and arms whenever he slowed down. The man begged for his life as he tried to outrun them, but no matter where he turned, they were always just a step behind.

He finally opened his eyes and wagged his tail. He was not a beautiful dog. He was a scrawny white hound mix. He was born with a strange crook in his tail that, as he had gotten older, made him look like his tail was short with a ball of fur at the end. When he was just a couple of years old, he injured his ear, which, upon healing, became wrinkled and shorter than the other ear. Nevertheless, what he lacked in looks, he made up for in personality and love.