[ That surprises him, but it reflects well on the otherβitβs wholly possible heβs adapted to a more communal, collectivist way of life here, Vasiliy supposes. ]
His name is Mukhtar. He is German Shepherd, I do not know how many years old he is. I found him on the first trip to Lakeside. Made his friend, gave him food. He followed me back. [ And now, where the whole story starts to go awry. Vasiliy sighs. ] He is⦠very not trusting. Every day I feed him, I give him safety, he has house. But he will not let me come close. I cannot put collar on him, or flea medicine. If he gets hurt I cannot help him. When he eats he is vicious, he will not... [ He gestures lamely. ] You come maybe two meters away from him and he starts to growl. I help him, and still he has no loyalty.
[ Which is the shock of the year—dogs, especially working dogs like German Shepherds, were bred to be loyal companions with good work ethic. It's their entire raison d'Γͺtre. What kind of dog wouldn't be loyal after all he's done to befriend him—what kind of dog seemingly wouldn't even like him? It's frustrating, being treated like an enemy in his own home after everything he's done for the beast, especially considering how limited supplies are here, and the fact that bringing him back up to a healthy weight in a cold climate has required a substantial amount of food—but perhaps even more than that, it's just baffling, completely incongruous with all experience with and notions of dogs he's held over his lifetime.
Maybe in the 'modern era' they've learned that dogs can be mentally ill too, as is the euphemism this latest generation prefers. Something's wrong with him. ]
no subject
His name is Mukhtar. He is German Shepherd, I do not know how many years old he is. I found him on the first trip to Lakeside. Made his friend, gave him food. He followed me back. [ And now, where the whole story starts to go awry. Vasiliy sighs. ] He is⦠very not trusting. Every day I feed him, I give him safety, he has house. But he will not let me come close. I cannot put collar on him, or flea medicine. If he gets hurt I cannot help him. When he eats he is vicious, he will not... [ He gestures lamely. ] You come maybe two meters away from him and he starts to growl. I help him, and still he has no loyalty.
[ Which is the shock of the year—dogs, especially working dogs like German Shepherds, were bred to be loyal companions with good work ethic. It's their entire raison d'Γͺtre. What kind of dog wouldn't be loyal after all he's done to befriend him—what kind of dog seemingly wouldn't even like him? It's frustrating, being treated like an enemy in his own home after everything he's done for the beast, especially considering how limited supplies are here, and the fact that bringing him back up to a healthy weight in a cold climate has required a substantial amount of food—but perhaps even more than that, it's just baffling, completely incongruous with all experience with and notions of dogs he's held over his lifetime.
Maybe in the 'modern era' they've learned that dogs can be mentally ill too, as is the euphemism this latest generation prefers. Something's wrong with him. ]