Disclaimer: The Dogs of War is part of a phrase written by Shakespeare, so it's not mine. I am not affiliated with any brands, companies, etc. mentioned. All quotes were ignorantly copied off dubious sites on the internet, so don't complain to me if I misquote someone. Just gently point it out if it really twists your panties that much. I make no money off of this and I am but a poor college student, so suing me is really quite pointless! Any resemblance to persons living or dead is merely paranoia on your part.

If you don't know who Gandhi is. Stop now. Go learn. Come back when you have gleaned some of his wisdom for yourself.


The Dogs of War

Chapter 13

"It is easy enough to be friendly to one's friends. But to befriend the one who regards himself as your enemy is the quintessence of true religion. The other is mere business."

Mahatma Gandhi

One Week Later, Friday, At Gorgeous Sunset Time

Over the course of the week, Sean spent less time sitting on the Rat's porch and more time helping Alice with poop scooping and refereeing the dogs as they romped around his backyard. His backyard. Sean never expected that owning his own home would feel quite so satisfying.

While, technically, Alice had the evening shift, Sean was kind of losing hope that the Rat would ever let him have a decent conversation past their perfunctory "hello" and "piss off", and playing with his furry friends was progressively winning more often over sitting around on his ass for nothing.

If only he could talk to the Rat, he could figure out how to get the man over his fear of canines. It was imperative. When pressed, Sean couldn't provide a convincing answer for why it was so imperative. It simply was. He'd spew some words about his recently launched campaign to end animal abuse, but the longer he observed the Rat, the more he realized the man was all talk. Albeit, those paintballs had stung like a mother fucking bitch… and that punch at the grocers…

So maybe the Rat wasn't all talk. Still, he seemed too frightened to ever let a dog in his vicinity and would probably choose the flight over fight response if they did happen to invade his ridiculously large bubble of personal space.

Alice had wisely pointed out that perhaps his obsessive (Obsessed? Really? Maybe overly determined, but obsessive?)invasion of the man's property was not the best route to take in getting the Rat out of his hole.

Many fearful dogs do not leave the back of their cage unless you step back and leave them a wide open doorway, is the analogy Alice employed to convince Sean his tactics needed updating.

Alice's helpful advice had ended there because she apparently had "no fucking clue how to engage an excessively antisocial man. Bake him some cookies; how the hell should I know? Best of fucking luck to you".

Friday, After Dark, Estimated 20:45 Hours/Where is My Watch?

Mark scowled at the two stuffed animals in the other room out of the corner of his eye while he brushed his teeth for bed.

It was too embarrassing to have them anywhere downstairs. What if someone saw? What if Sean somehow saw? Not that Sean could see from the front door, but Mark had been imagining all sorts of hair-raising situations where Sean managed to break into his house. He would come home from work one day to find Sean sitting on his couch, head perking up excitedly when Mark walked through the door…

If Sean saw the stuffed animals sitting on Mark's couch, he'd never stop gloating about it. Not that he ever would see them. It was merely a precaution. The plushies were best left in his bedroom where no one but Mark ever went.

Mark's life had become increasingly hectic, and right as he thinks his life couldn't possibly become more disrupted, it gets worse. His orderly, scheduled existence was slipping away from him. Stuffed animals on his bed. Men on his porch. Neighbors inviting him over for dinner for the first time since he moved in five years ago. Not that the Langilotti's wanted him over for company, who would? They were doing it to help out their friend who was starting a new business. Mark wanted to decline the invitation. He dearly wished he had. Alas, being paid on commission meant he needed every client he could get. If his boss found out he passed up such an opportunity only because he couldn't withstand an unfamiliar social setting… well, Mark would have his ass reamed.

He was completely unsettled and anxious and at night he'd end up clutching one of the stuffed animals as he tried to fall asleep over the multitude of worries whirling through his head.

Worse than the quickly approaching dinner, was the inconsistent nature of the god forsaken mutt. Mark had finally gotten used to- albeit he had been continually displeased and horrified by it- the consistent presence of Sean at his front door. Right when Mark had finally reestablished his equilibrium, the pest had to go and stop his perpetual perch upon the porch. Now, Mark was back on edge again, constantly expecting to see the shaggy hair and bright eyes when he chanced a glance out his window in the evenings. On the way home from work, his adrenaline would build up and his muscles tense, only to discover Sean was not waiting for him on the porch.

Mark would sigh- with relief, of course- and head inside.

At least, he should feel relieved. He should. But his body would remain wound up tight while his mood plummeted.

Mark couldn't believe it, could hardly think it.

I do not miss him; that would be insane. He is the one that's a total lunatic, not me!


A/N:

Wow, bet you were expecting to wait another 5 months for the next ridiculously short chapter.

And jfc, this seems like it's gonna have a loooot of fucking chapters at this rate, especially with how short each on is. Oh well, as long as I don't run out of quotes. What really sucks is when I use a quote and then it fits a newly written chapter better than the one I squandered it on.

Thanks for the reviews!

Bout to enter the final stretch of my 3 summer courses (yes, I'm insane to attempt to take that many summer courses while working a full job) so who knows, it may be a few months until the next update . I'll try to at least get the fucking dinner out of the way before abandoning you lovely readers again, but I make no promises on time-frames.

I dunno, don't really like this chapter. But I'm going to have a blast writing dinner at the langilotti's.