6:28 PM
Tuesday, August 21
Lovely sunset.

The little red wagon's little black plastic wheels bumping over the rocks and other sidewalk grit resulted in the sound of the wagon's metal body rattling and clanging. It's one of those old, original red wagons, not any of those new deep seated plastic and easily breakable fisherprice contraptions. This was a real red wagon with a long black metal handle and little plastic wheels. In the bed of the little wagon is two blankets, aranged neatly in the bottom and spilling just a little over the edge.

It might be strange, watching that wagon get pulled down the street by a full grown man. What's even stranger is that the man doesn't look crazy. Darien Carter, dressed in light blue jeans that fit his legs comfortably and his narrow hip snuggly and a black polo teeshirt, the bottom tucked into the jeans, and black work boots on his feet and his red hair pulled into a short ponytail at his neck, the bangs falling around his face, was pulling the wagon down the sidewalk behind him.

Darien had just locked the office up and was now making his way down the street towards the Diner. Coffee shop for breakfast, Work, Diner, park, home. It's his Tuesday schedual. Who am I kidding, it's his everyday schedual. The tall red head frequinted this schedual habitually since the day that he'd set up practice and settled into the routine in Bayfield three months ago.

At his side was a softer tap tap tap of dog-tonails, unheard under the sound of the rattling wagon. The dog trotted along at the man's heals, a mere step behind his human. He walked easily, one wouldn't believe if they couldn't see with their own eyes, this dog's back right leg was entirly missing. It was black and fluffy, probably with enough fur to make him nearly twice his actual sixe. His coat glowed with care that only human hands and thumbs can apply. The dogs ears were up, to verticle triangles on top of his head, the tips folding over slightly forward. From his short snout hung a pink tongue with two black spots, white, cared for teeth. His tail was a curl like a huskies.

Darien's face had been seen numerous times around the city, recognized at the 'boy with the wagon' (boy though he looked like he was in his mid twenties). It hadn't taken long for people to figure out what the wagon was used for. The wagon wasn't the man's. The wagon was Howler's, the dog's.

Darcy padded slowly down the sidewalk, hands in the pockets of his jeans and a stuffed-to-bursting backpack dragging down his shoulders and tugging uncomfortably on his grey t-shirt. He'd just returned from the university bookstore, having bought all the textbooks he'd need for the coming semester at Keaton.

He loosened the strap on his backpack and let one of the straps fall off to give his left shoulder a rest because it was starting to ache. The deep cut in his shoulder hadn't quite healed, though it was on its way. A cut across his nose had healed enough to remove the bit of surgical tape that had been covering it, but the other slash, down the side of his face, was still neatly covered. Darcy's yellow eyes, obscured by the brown, tufty strands of his hair, roved over the surroundings. As soon as he heard the noisy rattling of the wagon, he fixed his gaze on the source. A grown man dragging around a wagon? He'd seen stranger things.

Darcy's eyes lit up as he spotted the dog. He noticed that its gait seemed a tad odd, and then he noticed Howler's lack of a leg. Aw, poor thing.
Waiting until he'd drawn level with Darien, he smiled and offered a quick wave. He also stood in their way, unintentionally blocking the pair from continuing their walk.
"Hi," he said to Darien, with a faint, shy smile. He nodded to Howler. "C'est, euh, pardon - is this your dog?"

Darien came to a stop, the wagon and it's noise stopped with him, when the man stepped into their path. Howler continued to walk until he came even with his human and he too stopped. After a breif second of wavering just slightly as if indecisivly, the dog settled back and sat down with as much ease as if he had two legs. His tail stayed curled, ears sliding to the side slightly.

Darien's hand dropped to the dog's head, between the ears and his fingers scratched. He smiled and was preparing to tell the man in the very few french words he knew that he didn't speak french. Then the man converted to english and Darien's smile broadened.

"Yes he is."

Howler's tail wagged as if he knew he was being spoken about. His ears went erect again.

"He looks nice," Darcy commented, his smile widening. "You must take good care of him."

He crouched down in front of the dog, rocking back on his heels. He reached out a hand to touch Howler, then paused, pulled back his hand, and looked up at Darien. He grinned guiltily, like a kid caught doing something that he really shouldn't be.
"Is it alright if I pet 'im?" he asked.

Darien's smile didn't waver when the man crouched down. If anything, with the compliment, his smile swelled to the best it could be, proud. "Thank you, he's spoiled."

Howler had been busy sniffing the air, smelling the man, and the new book pages. And when the man crouched down, His rear end came up and he was standing again, curled and fluffy tail wagging side to side. And the hand reached out and he stretched his neck to smell the hand but it withdrew.

He turned his one brown eye and one blue eye up to his human and tilted his head.

Say yes! I want pet! Say yes! Say yes! He pranced slightly.


"Certinly," he replied, unknowing that Howler wanted pet. "Sit."

Howler sat.

"Heh. Thanks," Darcy grinned, any trace of guilt vanishing from his features. He turned his attention to Howler, and began scratching him expertly in the ruff of fur on his neck, behind his ears, the top of his head. Darcy had had practice when he'd had his own dog, but besides that, he'd spent quite a lot of time as a canine and knew where the scratches would be most appreciated. "Good boy," he said to Howler, his voice low and almost cooing - a voice which, with a girl, would be gurgling and squealing over the nice puppydog. Luckily Darcy had more self-control than that.

He looked back up at Darien, not ceasing to pet Howler, and offered his free hand to shake.
"I'm Darcy," he said cheerily. "You?"

sit didn't last long.

As he was pet, Holwer squirmed, scoot across the sidewalk, leaned into the hand, then stood to better lean into the hand, tail wagging. Darien laughed outloud as Howler fell back onto his butt and his one hind leg began to awkwardly thump at the ground.

Darien let go of the wagon handle, leaning it back over the wagon, and took the offered hand with his own still hand. "Darien. A pleasure." It's always a pleassure to meet a fellow animal lover, especially a dog lover. He shook the hand curtly, then released it. "This is Howler."

Darcy chuckled at Howler's antics - there was nothing like an appreciative dog to brighten a day.
"Pleased to meet you - both of you, of course," he said, smirking. After a few last tickles around Howler's ears, Darcy took his hand away and stood up. "Sorry if I am keeping you or anything. I couldn't resist stopping... never can."
He smiled apologetically, and looked down at Howler for a moment before returning his gaze to Darien. "Euh,... what kind of dog is 'e? I don't think I've seen one like 'im before."

Blink. Blink. Big brown and Blue eyes staring up at Darcy. More petting?

Darien dropped his hand back onto the dogs head and scratched. "You weren't keeping us at all." Howler bowed his head against Dairen's hand. "It's doubtful, I'm not exactly certin of all that is in him. He was a stray." He looked down at Howler, who was still trying to guilt Darcy with his eyes into petting him again. "My best guess was chow/Lab. Maybe some huskie." Because of that blue eye.

Darien couldn't have resisted stopping and petting a dog either so he doesn't fault Darcy in the least for it.

Darcy is such a sap. Guilt-trips work on him every time.
He looked apologetically at Howler and gently scratched under his chin, hoping that the dog would forgive him.

"Mm,... yeah, I think I see what you mean," Darcy nodded. "...Nice dog, all the same. Kind of reminds me of mine, only mine was a- a lab, but not anything else,..I don't remember the word for it, sorry."

He smiled gently. "Some call it a mixed breed. Some call it mutt. Either is fine though mixed breed sounds kinder."

He watched Howler get absolutly spoiled with his own fingers making gentle fists of his fur at the top of the dogs head and Darcy's fingers stroking his chin. Howler rocked his head back and forth slightly.

"I used to breed dogs and it seems to me that the rescued mixed are far more loyal then any other dog."

that's right. Keep scratching. Dinner can wait. Mmmmm.

"Mouais,.. I've only ever 'ad one dog, and 'e was from the SPCA. I didn't have a different one to compare 'im to, but I'll take your word for it," Darcy said cheerily, absently letting his fingers tangle in Howler's fur. He'd like to get a dog of his own, but there was just no way to do that - the apartment building he lived in didn't permit dogs. It had crossed his mind to get a very little dog and keep it hidden, but that wouldn't be fair to the poor animal. "What kinds of dogs did you work wit'?"

"Mouais?" He inquired softly. Given the rest of Darcy's sentance he could only guess it was some sort of agreement. But what better way to be sure then to ask? Howler stood again to get closer to both hands. He was only about the height of one's knee or thigh. Some people considered him a big dog. Really, he was only of mild size.

"Oh anything. But mostly in the herding and working breeds. Some in Sporting, hound, and terriors and even less in non-sporting dogs. I did a lot of work with Shepherds, Collies, Akitas, and Dobermen, and Great Dane."

The larger of the animals, except for the Akitas.

"Mouais...? Oh, sorry. It means 'yes'," he explained sheepishly. He forgot how easy it was to spatter his sentences with words in French and expect the person he was talking to to understand. He tilted his head sightly to one side, and a curious look crept into his eyes, making him look somewhat doglike himself. "Did you ever work with, euh- wild ones?"

"Ah." He'd always though Oui meant yes. But then, how many ways does the english language have to say 'yes'? He simply nodded. He almost laughed when Darcy got a look on his face. "By wild, if you mean wolves, yes. Or if by wild you mean stray," he gave Howler a rub on the head again, "yes, and if by wild you mean a dog with deseases that make them wild, yes."

"Actually, I only meant the first two, but okay," Darcy nodded, still with a slightly puzzled look on his face. "You said that you used to breed dogs - so, not anymore. What do you do now? ...Something to do with dogs still, I 'ope?"
Because someone who (apparently) loves animals as much as Darien does couldn't possibly have hemmed himself into a job without them.

He nodded. "Used too," he confirmed. "Now I'm a vetrinarian. The business started to backslide so i sold it. I'd wanted to be a Vet anyways until my dad died and I got the 'farm'." He tipped his head just slightly. "And you? What do you do?" Because it seems that Darcy likes dogs a good deal too.

He glanced at his wrist watch breifly. "We were just on our way to the diner. Care to join us?" Aparently the 'no pets' sign didn't apply to Howler in that restraunt.

"You're a vet?" Darcy grinned. "That must be a great job." He seemed to forget thatdaien had asked what he did - the answer was 'Nothing much', anyway. Working at a convenience store, ad getting reay to go to university. And sneaking out at night in the form of a wolf bt he'd never mention that part.

"Euh,... no, no thanks," he said, smiling apologetically. "I 'ave to drop my books off at home, and then go to work. My shift starts at seven."

"It is. I've just set up a practice."

Ting ting ting. Howler was dragging his front paw over the side of the wagon. Then again and again, he was pawing the metal. Darien reached down and gently ruffled the fur between his ears.

"I'm sorry that we've kept you then," he replied. "It's nearing 6: 45."

((sorry this ones short))

"You need any helpers?" Darcy offered, then blushed, "I mean, not that I 'ave any real experience, but if there's anyt'ing I can give a hand with...."

He blinked. "6:45? Zût, I'm going to 'ave to hurry..." he grimaced.

((mine's just as short, no worries.))

Zût. Darien wasn't sure that he was going to make the man repeat that one in english. He laughed slightly though and dug into his back pocket, bringing out his wallet and fishing for a card. He held out this card to Darcy, one of those stiff business menus.

"The number to the clinic is there. I could always use a hand. Even if it is something simple as feeding and bathing the impounded animals." The card would explain that not only does he run a vet but also a kenel. For strays needing homes. "It was nice to meet you, Darcy."

"Likewise," he grinned and pocketed the card after quickly reading over it. "I'll be seeing you soon then. I 'ad better get going."

He gave Howler a goodbye pat on the head, waved to Darien, and went on his way.

"We count on it." He smiled breifly when Holwer yelped at Darcy's retreating form, then bent and lifted the dog from beneath the legs and settled him into the wagon, then began to pull him towards the Diner.