Post by Snowshoe on Dec 8, 2012 4:03:51 GMT -5
Age: 3 years
Gender: Female
Appearance: Rita's long and lanky, with ridiculously long legs, a concave stomach, and dark chocolate eyes that seem always up to some sort of mischief. At first glance, this wiry girl looks as though she could be blown away by the first gust of wind to rustle the leaves around her, but that's not the case; Rita is well muscled, and though she appears thin, she's in peak physical condition, likely from living all her life on her toes. She's the epitome of an athlete, as you can see by the flexing of her muscles beneath her red coat when she runs -- so long as you pay attention. She's very true to her breed, and is quick and agile, with an amazing level of endurance that seems to be restricted to the desert dogs. However, that does have it's downsides: during winter, she's loath to come out of her little hovel, as she has very little protection from the cold. The longest fur on her drapes down from her ears and tail, and feathers out from her legs -- which, she's always found, is terribly inconvenient considering the rest of her is freezing.
Personality: Despite appearances, Rita's a tough little girl. She doesn't look like much, and intimidates no one based on appearances (why would anyone be afraid of that?), and thus is often underestimated. But she's a smart girl and well accustomed to thinking on her toes and making spur of the moment decisions, considering she's been living on the streets for a good part of her life. She's very resourceful, good at finding food for herself and utilising the materials around her for her own benefit. She doesn't take life too seriously, and likes to find the fun in most things -- though not the 'frolicking around and chasing your tail' sort of fun. She's much too proud for that. In fact, her pride is likely what's going to be her ultimate downfall. She doesn't like accepting help from friends, let alone strangers, and always stands her ground until the last possible moment despite the fact that both her brain and her instincts are screaming at her to flee. It's gotten her into some bad situations as well, particularly where bigger, stronger dogs are concerned. These days, she's starting to learn from her mistakes and always pinpoints a way out of every situation, just incase things go south. She's not a very trusting dog, which is understandable, and keeps most dogs at a reasonable distance, preferring to live on her own with no one to look out for but herself. She does tend to have a small circle of friends, and with these dogs, she's loyal to the end, even though she does tend to get a little bossy at times. She means well though, and she's just trying to watch out for them.
History: Rita's doesn't remember much about her parents, but what she remembers is wonderful. Her mum was stunning, she recalls; a beautiful tricolour, and her father was the most handsom dog she'd ever seen -- but she's often wondered if that was truly the way of things, or just how her lovesick puppy brain saw things, shrouded in a vail of naivety. She remembers her siblings better. There were six of them, four boys and two girls, and they played together beautifully. Whenever they went out to the park as a family, everyone oohed and ahhed at the elegant little pack, and it had made her feel good -- she liked it when people told her she was pretty. There weren't many dogs like her in this part of the world, so why shouldn't they think her beautiful? That's what her mother had said.
But unfortunately for Rita, her happiness was short lived. when she was two months old, the puppies were playing in the park, running here, there and everywhere. When their lady called, the exited bunch went bounding back, and Rita lost her footing as one of her brothers shoved her out of the way. She slipped and fell down the hillside, rolling painfully over rocks and sticks, and hit the bottom hard. She had always been resilient though, and she shook the pain and dizziness off, and set to climbing back up the ridge. She tried for an hour to climb back up, but nothing seemed to be working, and by the time the sun was going down, she was absolutely exhausted, and as she tried one last time to thow herself up the embankment, her legs gave out from under her. She lay in a heap for a while, breathing hard and whimpering quietly, trying to muster up some energy from somewhere to keep on trying. She could hear her family calling for her, but she was too tired to do anything more than whimper and breath, and against her will, her eyes closed.
When she woke up, the sun was back, but her family was not. She couldn't hear them calling her name anymore, but she set herself to climbing once again, determined to get home one way or another.
That was when she met Daisy. Daisy was a fluffy little mixed breed dog, who must have been six at the time. She wasn't too much bigger than the puppy she stared at so curiously, but you could tell her size had never been a matter to her. Daisy had approached the little pup and asked her what was wrong, and at that moment Rita knew her quest was due to fail -- she'd never see her family again. So she sat down squarely on her haunches and she cried. She told the black and tan dog everything; who she was, where her parents ought to be, how she'd happened to get all messed up like this -- and the little dog had smiled and comforted her. Daisy had told her that there was in fact another way up. It was longer, but less difficult, and that she would take Rita back to the park if that would help.
Rita figured it would, and perked right up as Daisy led her the long way around the ridge and back toward the flat ground where the park met the wood; according to Daisy, it was a camper's trail, and humans offen came wandering around out here, pitching their tents and playing with their fires. It took a long time to get back to the park, especially in puppy time -- the day and a half they spent walking (it would have been shorter if Rita hand't complained about her aching paws) seemed like a year to her, and when she saw the first picnic table, she burst into a run. She bounded back and fourth, looping around in circles, yipping happily as she hunted down her family. They weren't here, she realised. But that was all right, Daisy told her. They could wait together.
And they did. But the family didn't come back. They slept there two nights, under the same picnic table, but they didn't show up no matter how hard Rita hoped they would. So, at the end of the third day, she left with Daisy. She lived with the little dog for a long time, and Daisy taught her everything, and sculpted Rita into the dog she was today. Two years they were together, watching the people thin out and the dogs take over. And then, a few weeks before her nineth birthday, Daisy died, and Rita found herself all alone once more.[/ul][/ul]
