Post by xx. R O S I E on Mar 30, 2009 9:03:08 GMT -5
Name:
Pilot
Age:
3 Years
Gender:
Male
Breed:
Anatolian Shepherd Dog
Appearance:
Cream spans over the majority of the male's body, his fur thick and medium length, made of down and bristly guard hairs. His head is moderately large, hair softening out so that his face can be easily read upon first glance. Two dark dots areplaced on hsi cheeks, hairs serving much like whiskers on a cat, though not particularly useful. Rose-lopped ears are often drawn back, their chocolatey-black outer sides hiding the inner ears that is covered in dark, moist skin, and lighter hair. Pilot's muzzle is long and moderatley side, accentuated moreso by his flabby throat, possibly the signs of pior age and fattening. It is dipped in black, though white frosted hairs line his lips, nose wet and gleaming by any standard. About his neck lay an O-ring leather collar, much of those use on a hunting dog, but a small golden tag hang in the ring which mostly luls about his throat. The little charm, which can be described as the wings a pilot is awarded, is the last reckoning of his Man that Pilot can remember, too lost in the scent that memory can determine what he smells like anymore.
His build is neither thick or thin, rather a median between the two. His fur pales and creams over in areas, moreso the washed out color is on his haunches and underbelly. Legs appear to have suffered any damage, and if one inspected further, dewclaws appeared to have been removed from all paws except the right fore. If it was a vet's mistake, nobody knew, even Pilot himself. At the end fo his body is a fluffy, moderately short tail. At all times, it has a curl to it, and when in motions, it is usually held level with his spine, bouncing along gaily. Guarding on his neck is the last artifact that bears his scent. Sure, it has browned and dirty from its former glory, but the raggest scarf belonged to his master, and he would kill to protect it.
Personality:
In all sense of sanity, Pilot is in the prime group who actually have a mind to use and throw around. Having been riased by humans, he is more of a rational thinker and a pacifist, more of a kind soul. A bit of a loss at fighting makes him more of an intelectual. He adores the scent of gasoline and metal, having been the stench of his owner, a fighter pilot flyer for the air-force. Whenever a plane passes over, no matter what, Pilot has to sit down and throw his head back, marveling at the beautiful structure that had the power to soar so high. At the same time, it stings him to the heart to remember the fact that his Man is dead and lost, and his mate had cast him away, instead of drawing him near. Pilot is a bit of a vagabond roamer, preferring to have a few close friends rather than be the social butterfly.
History:
Pilot was initially born Saimon in a breeder's backyard, growing little with his litter, and moreso on his own. The pup was adventurous, spontanious, and most of all, a kind soul. When ti came time to meet families, as was what his mother said, he felt ready. His mother wasn't present to say goodbye to, but the anticipation he felt overrode that sadness. Pilot was adopted by a family looking for companionship- just like every other picket fence, suburban family of the time. Man, whom he called Joe, Woman- Martha, and Boy- Thomas, adored the pup, and raised him as well as a family could for their first pet. In time, Pilot's legs grew lanky and strong, his body thick with power.
What he noticed as he grew up with his folks, was that Joe often dissapeared for a great time- and all the while Thomas would be a saddened mess. Martha too, was sullen with Joe gone. He figured it was simply because he was out hunting- since he alwasy brought back a present each time, smelling off the exotic and unknown. What he soon discovered was that his Man- Joe, flew the powerful metal birds he had often spotted over their yard. He had been amazed with the fact they were so tiny, but could not be reached by his paws outstrecthed, even when he jumped- but after a family vacation, he truely appreciated the metal creatures. The family had been off to Los Hayden, Jow havign returned only days prior. There had been a car ride from their pretty litle place, and Pilot had been left in his crate rather than up front with Thomas and Martha.
The rushing people crossed and passed, far too many than the canien could tolerate. The only thing keeping him content was Joe beside him. As he leaned over to the cage, Pilot spied a glimmer of gold as wagged his tail, slapping it on the side of the raveling crate. Joe chuckled and presented his companion with the shiny tags, the wings and tags his new ID. Along with it- Martha and Thomas left cloth with their scent on it to passify the canine on the flight. Joe left a scarf and wrapped it about his neck instead. Off to fly went Pilot- seperated onto a cargo plane for the ride. He spied the monertous plane, relished the roar of the engine, and enjoyed the experience of entering the plane's belly.
Within time, Pilot began to feel exhausted- Maybe it wa sthe take-off, that made him feel so awesomely full of joy, it made him dizzy, or possibly the pressure got to his head. Either way, he yawned and slept, soothed by the hum of the engine. Awaking to the sound of noise, he heard the chatter of people over the roar of the engine, figuring there were people outside. Though when he looked out of the hatch through the small windows in his cage, he saw a grim scene.
Fire licked the tarmac as their plane raced away from the burning wreckage, people scattering far. Realization hit him- That was Joe's family's plane... Were they dead? Pawing that the cage brought no freedom, so he chraged the door and toppled off his stack, breaking his container open. The metal birz roared in flames, people emerging form the wreckage too worried for the people to noticed a terrified and sorrowed dog making a b-line for the fence. Slipping loose of the air-port's boundaries, he found himself in the outskirts of the city he was going to vacation at, and he never felt so sorrowful.
