The dog lifts his head, having thoroughly enjoyed the short nap. Moonlight streams in through the windows; and while a sim would be nearly blind with such a little amount of light, his sensitive canine eyes easily sees the people on the bunks nearby. The strange yet somehow familiar smell permeates the whole room, and seems to be recent if his nose is as good as he believes it to be.
Getting to his paws, he wanders around the room, sniffing here and there; following the invisible trail left by the creature and pads down the hall into the kitchen, but sees nothing and continues following the faint trail out into the hall. Following it outside, he notices that the food bowl got moved out here, next to a newly painted doghouse. The scent is strong around the bowl of kibble, and gets stronger. As he turns around he sees a pair of eyes in the darkness, a bit above him and across the yard.
Cocking his head, he pads across the yard and looks up at the creature with a curious look, seeing them sitting upon a strange multi-level house of some type. He has seen cats before, but never one as strange looking as this one and they just watch as they approach placidly. By everything he knows about cats, they should run when they see him; him being a dog after all, but the creature is either fearless, or stupid.
“Who are you?” He asks and the cat just gingerly licks a paw. “Cleopatra… but the people call me Violet because of my eyes, they are pretty don’t you think?” She says with a languid smile, leaning down so he can look at them. He gives his best dumb dog grin and nods, playing along, but he somewhat suspects she isn’t as dumb as she is pretending to be. She jumps down and he follows her as she saunters almost lazily to the porch, mostly so he can imprint her scent and keep an eye on her. He has never known many cats or lived with one; and he will reserve judgment on how he feels about this one until he knows her a bit better.
“What do they call you?” She asks in with a flowing, melodic meow, making it a bit difficult for him to understand. He is used to a more earthy way of speaking, but it only takes a moment for him to understand.
“Well, Dog or mutt mostly… I haven’t been around Sims much.” He replies simply, still carrying off the dumb dog routine. “I think the last name I had was Hammer.” She sounds amused by his name. “Hammer? That kind of fits you.” She says, seemingly on the verge of laughing. He fixes a quirky grin on his face and his tongue lolls out of his mouth a bit. “What do you mean by that?” He asks, though he is pretty sure she has some inside feline joke about him being stupid or something like it; giving him the notion that she is fooled by his performance. “Oh nothing…” She says with a smile, turning to walk back into the house; obviously not finding him an adequate conversational companion.
He goes his own way and the encounter is forgotten for the most part in the excitement of exploring some place new. He finds a house just down the street, one that seems to be abandoned from the lack of recent human smells on the property. Not even bothering to scratch at the door, he goes for the trash can and strangely finds it full; and if his nose is any guide, there will be something to eat inside.
He is not disappointed, finding a plastic container of only slightly spoiled macaroni and cheese, chowing it down with a will and finding it tasty. There are no bones or anything even resembling a toy so he returns home disappointed, just as the sun is rising over the mountains.
His companion for the last couple of days is already up and in a room smelling ever so slightly of urine, doing the most atrocious things to his mouth. The mint smell is almost overpowering and he wonders how he can even stand that taste in his mouth. When he finishes and spits something into the sink, he grabs some clean clothes and the dog gets some kibble from the bowl and waits for him to come back. He smells different; without the pungent odor he had gotten used to, but he isn’t overly perfumed like many people, so it doesn’t bother his sensitive nose. They walk outside and he realizes he hasn’t thought of a name for his human companion yet, perhaps one will come to him in the next couple days.
His own name (the one he calls himself) is Barco Polo, like the famous canine traveler who traveled from far-away Shang Simla to Sunset Valley centuries ago. According to his dam, he is descended from that great pinnacle of canines and wears the name proudly. He has the blood of long distance travelers and keeps an easy loping pace beside the man’s bike, stopping only when he does for a breather and within a few minutes reach downtown and the businesses there.
Downtown is a bustle of people and cars, the slight tang of smog in the air with each car that passes them. He sees people looking out the windows of the buildings and houses they pass and also of the cars that go by; curious as to whom they are. Up the hill from the nearly treeless town center is a low stucco building that simply reeks with a cacophony of chemical smells and while his companion goes inside; perhaps looking for work, he decides to stay outside away from that chemical smell.
The wooden bench is vastly more comfortable than the fitted masonry of the ground and he spends his time enjoying the cool breeze and watching the people go by, engrossed in their own self-important activities. He is contemplating a name for his new companion when he falls asleep on that bench and wakes when his sensitive ears picks up the sound of the door opening behind him.
Barco climbs off the bench as his companion walks over; stopping to give him scratches to his ears. He has never really been that social, but this human seems to be almost a kindred spirit and he’d have to be dumb to not at least acknowledge that and see how it goes. Well, he certainly likes the ear scratches, he thinks to himself and they walk back toward downtown. His companion stops in at most of the buildings and while he doesn’t know what he is doing, he gets to sniff pretty much everything in downtown, so doesn’t mind all that much. He is usually waiting for him when he walks back out; having sniffed all the bushes, trees and people that happened by. He had even grabbed a quick snack after some wasteful sim thrown away almost half of a meatball sub they’d been eating.
By his companion’s demeanor and attitude, Barco senses that he is a little frustrated and angry with whatever is happening inside the buildings and nudges against him as they walk; his standoffish way of telling him it will be okay. They are out most of the afternoon, and he hopes that when they return home, he can lie down for a bit of a nap before it gets too dark.
“Oh look who is back…” Violet says as he climbs the stairs. “I’d turn back around if I was you… or you’ll get a bath; not that you couldn’t use it.” She says with amused meowing. “What’s that?” he asks, putting on his best dumb dog expression; knowing full well that it’s what people do to clean an animal.
Truthfully, he’s never really had one, the rain or a puddle of water has always been good enough to keep him clean. “It’s horrible, they put you in a big thing of water and rub smelly stuff all over you and then rub you down with a towel until your fur stands up and you have to completely wash yourself all over again to make it right...” She says, narrowing her eyes in annoyance at having to explain such a rudimentary thing as a bath to the dumb dog.
Just inside Darren meets up with Justice as he’s heading for his bed, tired from all the riding around town that he did. “You look much better, a clean clothes and a shave will do wonders.” He says and Justice just nods in agreement. “Now you just need to give your companion a bath if you want him to stay here; it wouldn’t do to give Violet fleas.” While normally Justice isn’t someone who follows orders, he doesn’t really want to cause problems for someone who is trying to help him. He idly wonders who Violet is as he’s leading the dog to the back yard for his bath, having seen no other animals around the house.
There in the back yard, his companion slouches down and speaks to him, but he’s never had one speak to him beyond telling him to get away and so Barco doesn’t understand what he is saying, but assumes that it has something to do with Violet’s warning about a bath.
He motions for the dog to follow and leads him over to a tub near the workshop and Barco understands well enough that he want him to get into the tub on his own, but he is a little fearful about taking a bath; after Violet’s warning and refuses to get in. It takes several long minutes of coaxing and numerous treats stolen from the kitchen for the human to get him into the tub.
The water is warm and the soap has a very mild fruity smell and Barco finds Violet’s description of it somewhat accurate, but it isn’t horrible at all. He revels in having his fur clean, his ears checked and cleaned from mites and happily watches the dead fleas float around in the dirty water. He is washed twice and then dries him off with a fresh and dry towel. It is a bit uncomfortable when he gets out, he feels colder than he normally is possibly from not having all the dirt and grime caked in his fur. His companion goes into the house and disappears like the water going down the drain and leaves him to his own devices.
He goes out the front door and down the streets in his nightly wandering following the various scents coming to his sensitive nose. He comes up to house with the smell of humans, fresh water, and a strange array of odors unlike anything he’s smelled before. The car in the driveway smells of rust, old food and cheap gas and he does a rudimentary sniff before going to the water.
The water is clear and cold and smells fresh as Barco sticks his head into the water to search for fish. Seeing none, he takes a drink and finds it so good he gets seconds and thirds before turning to dig a hole, something he enjoys doing aside from dumping trash cans and shredding things.
He is just finishing up on his hole; having found nothing chewable when a strange smell assails him and he turns to see a man approaching slowly, a strange look on his face. “Hey there pooch.” He says with an oily grin and Barco gets a bad feeling about this guy; whoever he is. Dogs and cats can both sense when something isn't right, and his senses are giving him a warning to be cautious.
The man leans down and scratches his ears and he can smell the strange odors coming off his body, making him even more nervous and he tenses up so his fur stands on end and a low growl comes from his diaphragm. The man gets up and hurries away, shutting the door to the house as Barco follows him up the stairs and all the way to the door..
Angry at the man, he grips the closest chair with his jaws and begins shredding it until a large chunk of wood has broken off the underside. Still grumpy, he walks down the stairs and pees on the side of the house and then crosses the yard.
As a last vent for his anger, he knocks over the man’s trash can, even though he has no plans whatsoever of rummaging through the reeking refuse. He scatters the waste across the yard and goes back to cleanse his mouth with the fresh water from the pond before returning home.
A similar smell assails him as he trots through the door; and he goes to find the source of it, more curious than anything. He follows it to the laundry room, just outside the bathroom where a blonde haired woman is standing. He hasn’t yet thought of a name for his companion; but one springs to mind for her, Smelly Socks since her smell reminds him of a sim who had never changed his socks; the smell sickly and bitter. She tries to leans down, but having already had a bad experience with someone smelling like her tonight, he growls in warning and she backs off and then turns to leave.
It doesn’t take long for him to find his way back to the bedroom so he can rest; having had a longer day than he normally would. He falls asleep dreaming of his new companion; hoping tomorrow will be better.
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