Adam Milligan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
halfwinchester) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entranceway2014-04-17 11:30 am
halfwinchester) wrote in entranceway2014-04-17 11:30 am
003 ♟ text/action
[By the looks of the network, there's something wrong again, something about missing people, but when isn't something going wrong in Wonderland?
Adam has more immediate concerns, ones that, in comparison, are far more innocuous. In opposition to missing someone, if anything Adam is still trying to adjust to an addition to his one-man family. Getting a dog had seemed like a great plan when the event had been in full swing and encouraging him to ignore the oh my god, I can't be responsible for another living thing panic, but now the event's long over and the dog's still around with no humane society in sight. The destruction the dog wreaks around his apartment spurs him to write a text message he figures can't do any harm. It's not the weirdest thing he's ever asked on the network, anyway, and if nothing comes of it, no loss.]
Anyone have any dog training tips? For a larger kind of dog if it won't listen.
[The warm and fuzzy honeymoon feeling has worn off and cold, heard reality has set in in the form of one barking, grunting, chewing, drooling, messy, smelly, furry giant.]
And if it won't stop chewing everything it's not supposed to.
[At the end of the message, he adds:]
Any good names for a guy dog?
[Not long after he posts his message, Adam takes his new responsibility out for his daily walk, phone in his jacket pocket and gun tucked into the back of his pants (hey, it's not like anyone's around to report him missing, but he's not about to become another statistic if he can help it). The mastiff, a soft fawn-colored dog nearing two hundred pounds and pretty much as tall as his owner standing on his rear legs, trots ahead of Adam, collar jingling merrily. Adam follows behind, rubbing his face tiredly. For once the redness around his eyes isn't just due to night terrors; lately, having a pet padding around his room and bumping him with its nose keeps drawing him out of nightmares and into the perils of having a dog that won't stop trying to crawl onto your bed.
It's a strange thing, having something there with him at all hours. Really strange. And comforting.
After a while, they end up on a patch of grass beyond the gardens. There, Adam tries once again to teach it the "stay" trick like he's been doing all week. He might not have picked a name for the bastard yet, but actually listening to him when he needs it to stay put is kind of important, and a command that has yet to stick in any meaningful way.
Housebreaking? Not really a problem. Sitting? Not too hard with enough commanding and maybe a beer to calm his nerves. But the staying...]
Okay, stay. Stay there.
[He leaves the dog lying down at a point in the field and tries to back away. The routine almost always ends the same way: by the fifth step or so, the dog seems to think the distance means "green light, go!" and launches forward to paw his legs and nip his bootlaces, tail wagging, where he has to push it back to the start again.
At one point, the dog rips his laces undone completely and bending down results in a dog frantically trying to lick his face from top to bottom.]
I'm starting to think you're just doing this on purpose. [Adam pushes its big head away, acting annoyed but not feeling it.] Take a pill. You want one? I have one. Might kill you, but at least you won't be able to get up and follow me. Now get over there and stay.
[Back to the starting point.]
Adam has more immediate concerns, ones that, in comparison, are far more innocuous. In opposition to missing someone, if anything Adam is still trying to adjust to an addition to his one-man family. Getting a dog had seemed like a great plan when the event had been in full swing and encouraging him to ignore the oh my god, I can't be responsible for another living thing panic, but now the event's long over and the dog's still around with no humane society in sight. The destruction the dog wreaks around his apartment spurs him to write a text message he figures can't do any harm. It's not the weirdest thing he's ever asked on the network, anyway, and if nothing comes of it, no loss.]
Anyone have any dog training tips? For a larger kind of dog if it won't listen.
[The warm and fuzzy honeymoon feeling has worn off and cold, heard reality has set in in the form of one barking, grunting, chewing, drooling, messy, smelly, furry giant.]
And if it won't stop chewing everything it's not supposed to.
[At the end of the message, he adds:]
Any good names for a guy dog?
[Not long after he posts his message, Adam takes his new responsibility out for his daily walk, phone in his jacket pocket and gun tucked into the back of his pants (hey, it's not like anyone's around to report him missing, but he's not about to become another statistic if he can help it). The mastiff, a soft fawn-colored dog nearing two hundred pounds and pretty much as tall as his owner standing on his rear legs, trots ahead of Adam, collar jingling merrily. Adam follows behind, rubbing his face tiredly. For once the redness around his eyes isn't just due to night terrors; lately, having a pet padding around his room and bumping him with its nose keeps drawing him out of nightmares and into the perils of having a dog that won't stop trying to crawl onto your bed.
It's a strange thing, having something there with him at all hours. Really strange. And comforting.
After a while, they end up on a patch of grass beyond the gardens. There, Adam tries once again to teach it the "stay" trick like he's been doing all week. He might not have picked a name for the bastard yet, but actually listening to him when he needs it to stay put is kind of important, and a command that has yet to stick in any meaningful way.
Housebreaking? Not really a problem. Sitting? Not too hard with enough commanding and maybe a beer to calm his nerves. But the staying...]
Okay, stay. Stay there.
[He leaves the dog lying down at a point in the field and tries to back away. The routine almost always ends the same way: by the fifth step or so, the dog seems to think the distance means "green light, go!" and launches forward to paw his legs and nip his bootlaces, tail wagging, where he has to push it back to the start again.
At one point, the dog rips his laces undone completely and bending down results in a dog frantically trying to lick his face from top to bottom.]
I'm starting to think you're just doing this on purpose. [Adam pushes its big head away, acting annoyed but not feeling it.] Take a pill. You want one? I have one. Might kill you, but at least you won't be able to get up and follow me. Now get over there and stay.
[Back to the starting point.]
no subject
Now you really are making things mushy, Clarisse! If she hadn't ambushed him, and he hadn't found out why she had been so vengeful, would they have gotten to this point? The point where a demi-god would be offering him her hand like an equal--not in strength, but as a living person, as validation Adam is here, he's his own person, and he means something? That's another "probably not."
But God help him, Adam's going to do the crazy thing and accept it.
Who would've thought this would ever happen...]
no subject
her grip is firm, like iron — a good, hearty handshake. she'll try not to accidentally break any of his fingers. she's not really quite sure what to do afterwards, though, so she figures now's the time to bow out. ]
So, uh, guess I'll see you around. Have fun with your dog.
[ she nods at him, a flash of a grin on her lips, then takes her leave. today took an unexpected turn, but, for the most part, she thinks it turned out for the best. ]