Max lay down on the corner of the lane that led down to the Castle. This was the Royal lane, the life-line of the city. All the important people went up and down this lane. Some conducted the King's affairs, others simply plied their trade, did business. Still others begged or tried to steal, and lil' child beggars pouted and cried for a chance of a good meal. At night, the courtesans would lure the young sailors and their captains with the promise of one unforgettable night.
Max felt the cool of stone pavement on his face. No one noticed him... they never did, and perhaps they never will. The pang of hunger hit him again, filling him with nausea, and he salivated at the wifts of fried bacon that has meandered its way through the turns and bends of the lane. Hunger pangsq lasts 20 minutes; but he decided he might not. So off Max went, scampering across the lane following the smell of fried bacon. Ducking a horse carriage and darting through the tangle of human beings, he reached what he was looking for.
Max was 3, never knew his parents, and had survived mainly because people found his innocent, wide eyes so captivating. His kind struggled for a living, and he has had friends who had been kicked around for fun, set on fire, and even beaten to death, then skinned and eaten. He will never forget the smell of his friend's burning corpse as he lay spitted just round the corner from the lane where he now stood.
Max looked up at a burly, sweaty man with a paunch, panting away from his lil' journey here. Blood-shot tired eyes met wide, bright, innocent eyes.
"What the hell do you want?"
Max kept quiet. He never spoke a word, and made a conscious effort not to stare at the bacon, but to hold his captivating gaze on that bald man's face. Time slipped away. Customers came and went, and the bald man tended to them. Max sat down quietly, and continued to stare at the man. The man raised his chopper and waved angrily at Max.
"Get out of here you stinking ..." That gutteral voice.. then a spit that landed next to Max. But Max knew the bald man wasn't aiming it at him. He was a good man, and it's just that he had to deal with situations like the one he was confronted with now dozens of times a day. Max continue to gaze unflinchingly.
The bald man bent down and tossed Max a relatively large piece of burnt bacon.
"Now get out of here before i gut you you hairball... and don't come back!"
Max lept up and licked the man on the face, drawing a half hearted protest. Then he scampered away, with that prize between his canines, saliva dripping down his grey beard down onto his paws that was covered by scabs.
Max rounded the corner and ran into Rose. Rose was 2, pedigree, flawless in features, a beautiful Alaskan. Max had always loved her since he had set eyes on her. She was one hot ahem... female dog. But he knew he had no chance. He was a mongrel, surviving in a tough world, with scars from fights with dogs bigger and meaner than him; and he knew that he would grow up to be like one of them one day. Rose belonged to someone, and was loved and cherished. She was smart, and classy. He loved her long silky hair, and the smell of the
Dove dog shampoo whenever she walked past. He loved the way she looked when she was sleepy, and she had told him that she had trouble sleeping, so Max loved the way she looked all the time. Everywhere she went, there would be dogs howling to ask her paw in marriage. All manner of gifts would be given her... cat carcasses, the heads of sparrows, tails of 200 rats, the femur of a cow, the manhood of a poor blindfolded horse who was towing a carriage.....
But Rose still talked to him, befriended him. Though whenever she was around, he would not be able to say anything sensible, but would only make stupid suggestive comments as he tried to be cool. Damn, he was never this way with the other bitches. Then again, he never liked them that much either. She wasn't going out with anyone now, having broken up with a short lil' chihuahua about half a year ago. There is a big bulldog asking her out as well, and he was rich, made good conversation, and was more experienced in cutting up other dogs.
Max held his head a little higher, and spoke a bit more confidently. "Hi.." He barked. Then his mind was so full of Rose that he had nothing else to say. Without thinking twice he walked forward and lay that piece of burnt meat at her feet. His stomach growled noisily in protest. He had not eaten for the last 3 days.
"I couldn't take it..."
"No you must."
"But you look like you haven't eaten."
"Nah, i get deals like that all the time... cos i am so good looking." His sores suddenly itched.
"Ha ha... ok... but i am not so hungry."
"It's alright, take it, you might get hungry later."
"Ok, thanks. Anyway i gotta run."
"Sure, I gotta meet someone myself. No time..."
She hesitated, then picked up the piece of burnt bacon and sauntered off. Max walked away, then stopped pretending that he had to meet someone, and followed quietly after her. Rose went down the lane towards the river, her fur glowing an angelic white in the summer sun.
Under a sigamore tree, Rose met Dave, a dashing 4 year old Labrador, who was carrying a roasted duck in his jaw, with a tag saying "Peking". Max didn't know the meaning of that. Dave frowned in disgust at the burnt piece of bacon. Rose looked around and didn't see Max, and promptly flung the burnt bacon unto a nearby ditch, whereby a few large mean rats whisked it away before one could even go "woof woof".
Max howled in agony when he had found a quiet corner to do so. He had given up more than a lunch. But he also knew that if he was put in the same situation once again, he would have done the very same thing.
