Interference (A Human Pet Tale)

Chapter 13: Learning Boundaries Part 2

Jackus

I wake up comfortably. My body may be sore from the shocks still, and my mind may be exhausted from everything else that has happened.

But right now, I am a warm bed, with pillows and blankets and furs all over. I have a full stomach from last night's smoothie, and all the bruises from my parents are gone, if not mostly faded.

I am still scared. Fearful of these aliens, of my owner. But I... I don't really know how to describe what I'm feeling.

I sigh and curl up into a ball, enjoying the surrounding warmth of my room.

My room.

The thought of having something as simple but as personal as my own room is a wondrous feeling.

I lie there in my own thoughts for a while, until the gate door slides open. I look over my shoulder to see my owner crouched in front of the entrance, smiling.

I really want to trust him and come out, but I'm just not ready to do so. I learned long ago that trust may be the only thing you have left, even if you're stripped of everything else.

I know. It's happened to me. And so, I don't give my trust easily. It has to be earned.

He beckons me out, but I only cuddle further into the mattress. He clicks and gurgles, but I don't budge.

He sighs, stands and I hear some fiddling. And then the top lifts like last time, and I whine, just wanting to be left alone.

But no such thing as I am scooped up into his arms and carried out of the room. He is considerate to take one of the blankets with him, draping it over my body as we walk out.

His friend is working in the kitchen, and my owner drops me into the large pen in the corner, ruffling my hair before walking into the kitchen as well.

I try the plastic bars of the pen, but they are firm and tall...I cannot get out.

I sigh and crawl into the large dog bed, drape the blanket over me, and watch as the two large forms move around in the kitchen.

I gently claw at the muzzle around my mouth, the skin underneath starting to blister and dry up.

About half an hour later (I just guessed since there's no clock in sight), my owner walks back in with a plate of steaming food.

He leans over the pen, and with one large hand, pins me to the dog bed. I let him, knowing he's too strong to struggle against.

His other hand somehow unbuckles the straps of the muzzle, and he grabs it and puts it in a pocket of his pants.

I lick my lips and the new blisters, happy that that blasted thing is off.