Dog Days

Published: 3/27/25

Harry woke up in a cage. A not terribly complex lock was keeping him trapped. However, he was still light-headed. He could feel the residual pain in his body through the haze of drugs. The bastards put the cone of shame on him, and he could feel the cast on his left leg and shoulder, where the car hit him.

A car.... a fucking car got him. Well, he wasn't dead. Despite the pain and small space, Harry managed to get his rear paws under the cone's lip around his neck, and then he used his raw power to force it up and off his head. He whined from the pain, but it was off. Harry inspected his injury. Front leg was in bad shape, though, and some ribs weren't happy. Luckily, the humans didn't kill him. He had to see what they'd do, before he would try to escape. He didn't know how bad he was.

It took a few hours, but a blue scrub guy came into the room. "Oh, you're up! And you got your cone off."

Damn right, human. No cone of shame for me! Harry thought.

"You need that on!" he said, cautiously opening the cage door.

Growling or snapping at humans was a big No-No, he knew. Dangerous dogs get put down. Harry wagged his tail and licked the guy's hand. Instead of biting him, he rolled away, batting away attempts with his good paw. After ten minutes, the scrub guy gave up.

"Stubborn bastard! Don't chew it off!" he ordered and walked out.

When the orderly returned, he dumped dry dog food in his bowl. Harry batted it out onto the floor, much to the scrub guy's annoyance. The vet came by later, pulled him out carefully, and thoroughly checked his injuries.

"He'll live. Very calm... I guess he's not that feral one from the Manchester area."

Harry felt some pride in the fact that he was a "wanted" dog with posters.

"Easy, boy," the vet said and gently pressed his tender parts. He whined but let it happen. "Teeth don't look good. He hasn't been to a vet. Full shots, and we better clean these."

Harry let them do it. He didn't want to be put down as a mad dog. He wondered if he'd be alright medically handling animal drugs. He found that he still didn't care.

The vet tutted as he picked at Harry's teeth, removing grime and old bits of food. "This is the most mild-mannered dog I've ever had. Is he drugged?"

"Not yet. Not since surgery," the orderly replied.

Harry whined gently as the pain was getting up there. He wanted some painkillers. The vet ordered, obtained and dosed Harry again with some pain relievers.

The vet was nearly done when a different scrub girl came in. The vet asked her, "Did you find his owner?"

"No chip. No known owner or missing dog report. The guy that hit him said he'd take him. Dray something," she said.

"Ok, do more checks for reports."

"I've checked many stations. There are plenty of reports of a wandering Belgian Malonias that's been roaming the country. This might be him. He has no reports of attacking humans, just stealing food, tearing up garbage, evading capture, and getting into dog fights. This one has quite a few scars and old injuries."

"Huh... but no owner? Just reports of a dangerous stray?" the vet asked as he checked his paws and nails.

"Yep."

"This Dray guy can take him. Owner has got to come forward soon if they want him, but I see no signs of ownership, so he's got a new owner, now," the vet decreed as he trimmed his nails.

"Will do," the lady said, leaving. Harry was too out of it to read their name tags.

After the vet finished, he said, "Done. Let him relax on the bed."

"No problem," the orderly said, and they left the room, after the guy tied his leash to a post next to the bed.

Harry was glad that he was so gentle that they didn't put him back into the cage. He dazed in and out all morning after the lull of the drugs. He heard other dogs and owners come and go from the hallway and lobby, but only the male orderly came into the room, trying and failing to persuade him to eat dog food.

Then, near evening, he heard a woman say, "Oh... Mr. Dray... was it? He's doing great and seems to have a good temperament, though stubborn about eating and wearing a cone. We haven't forced either, yet. Do you want us to keep him until he eats?"

"No... um... I'll try a few thugs. Do you recommend anything?" a voice said. It sounded familiar.

"We don't sponsor any particular brand. We use the cheapest here. Protein and vegetables, though. He's a mature dog. The vet couldn't gauge his age but is sure that he's fully grown. No signs of arthritis or old age markers. His hips look good, and his teeth were all there. The vet gave his teeth a good cleaning and trimmed his nails."

"That's good," the man replied.

"I also checked the missing dog reports, but there were none. However, there's are a few about a stray Mals running loose from here to Hadrian's wall. Might be him... might not."

"I see. His injuries?"

The scrub lady went on for a bit, and Harry debated whether or not he would stay with this person. He looked down at his cast when she explained to his new owner that it couldn't get wet. Now, normally, Harry loved the rain. He loved getting wet and muddy. He'd wash after... sure, but the absolute freedom of running into a lake at full speed was too hard to pass up. He whined. He needed to heal, which, lucky for him, would be quicker than normal. He still had some magic.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Malfoy said, as he paid the rather large bill for his care. "Can I see him?"

"Yes. Just remember that you'll have to carry him up and down steps, and lift him into you from his uninjured side. It has worked fine so far," she said as she opened the door.

Harry got up from his pet bed and wagged his tail. He was expected to be a lovable stray.

But suddenly, in walked Draco Malfoy. Harry resisted growling, but he tensed and backed away in shock. It was definitely him, though older and a muggle? Wait... Draco Malfoy was a muggle? The smell of honey and vanilla came off him. It was the man who hit him... and saved him. Draco Malfoy cared that an animal would die? Harry backed into the wall as far as the leash would go, his heckles raising and teeth barred.

"Oh, dear... be careful. Perhaps he remembers what happened yesterday?" she suggested.

"He's scared of me," Malfoy said, sadly.

"Yes, and he may attack. He's a... stray animal. Mals are not as aggressive as pitbulls or rotts but still deadly. And you can't take him if he's dangerous."

"He's just scared, though. Maybe give him time to get used to me?"

"Well, I hate to force your hand, lad, but if you don't take him... we might label him stray... a stray with a Bolo... and we'd have to put him down," the orderly warned.

Harry winced internally. Whatever his past feelings were about Malfoy, it didn't matter. Plus, he obviously saved him, so he wasn't a cruel bastard. Harry had to suck up to him. He flattened his ears to his head and whined a little. Then he wagged his tail and crawled to Malfoy's outstretched arm.

"Good boy... good boy. See, he was just startled by my awesome looks," Malfoy joked, and the scrub person laughed.

"Oh, that's great, love," she said, tapping Malfoy's shoulder, friendly.

Harry sat down as Malfoy gently petted him all over. He enjoyed his rubdowns. Man, it did feel good. He loved pets. He dropped down to his side and let the Malfoy heir rub his tummy, too. It was so hard to stay mad at anyone when they did that, and he did need a temporary home. He needed to heal.

"Here's his mediation, love. Want me to bring a trolley?"

"No, I got him."

Harry felt lighter and realized that Malfoy did magic. Well, he wasn't on probation anywhere. But Harry still whined a bit when he lifted him.

"Thanks for your help," Malfoy said to the orderly as he carried Harry out the door.

As Malfoy took him out to his car and put him in the back, Harry hoped he had made the right decision.