The world in the life of a grey husky. Chptr. 10 Marks father.
Opening his eyes, husky looked up into the clear blue sky. Wandering exactly what had happened, Mark sat up on his side. Turning his head towards the air, he smelled the scent of sex. Taking this smell in for quite a while he then focused his gaze to the other furs sitting near him.
The fox ran up and hugged him with a look of sadness and worry in his eyes. Looking at his husky, the fox smiled wide and hugged him tightly, not wanting to let go. As he hugged him tears slowly trickled down his face.
"Whats wrong Mark?"
Looking into the foxes eyes he wished he himself knew what was wrong. He felt fine and yet he was very weak. In his mind he knew that this wasn't right for him. Not really wanting to give him his straight answer he looked past the fox out over a field and sighed.
"I..I don't know buddy. I just..I just dont know."
Looking down at his mate, the fox sniffed a little before burying his head in his chest. Not wanting to ruin his day the fox just nuzzled deeper and deeper into the fur on Mark's chest.
Looking down at the fox he sighed. Placing his hand on his head, he patted him.
"Its gonna be alright. It's gonna be alright..."
He said it in a hushed tone. Almost wanting to tell himself that it was alright he just repeating it over and over. He knew it would be but it would take some getting used to.
Looking up at the blue sky again he reflected on his past.
He knew that his mother had left him and his father. But there was not anything he could do about it. She was never coming back to him. His Father on the other hand, he didnt love him, didnt care, he probably didn't even remember him.
Mark let a small tear fall, going unnocticed by both the fox and the now sleeping wolf. He never really loved him or his brother. All that horrible man wanted was to make him misserable and lonely. Growling a little under his breath he lets his mind relax for a moment then calms down.
Nuding the fox on his chest he motioned to the truck and he noddedand bounded off. Rolling off the towel set under him, the husky stretches out in the cool grass. Grabbing a clump of somewhat wet grass in his paws he slowly hears his arms pop into joint.
Bracing himself in the grass he uses his powerfull leg muscles and runs forward lifting himself up onto his feet. Then, walking over to the blanket he throws it into the back of the truck. Picking up his clothes he puts them on then opens the door to the cab. Chuckling a bit at the sight he sees, he moves the sleeping foxes head and climbs in.
Looking down at the two furs he smiles. Legend must have cralled in while he was napping and layed down in the cab. Then the littler fox must have been so tired that he had just collapsed once he had gotten in. Lifting the wolfs arm up he moved it from off the foxes cute rump and onto his chest.
Starting the truck up he drove off the farm, down the dirt road and back onto the main road. Looking out the window every so often at the farms he could almost see memories of his childhood in the golden grain in the field. Seeing his mother playing with him as a pup, and his father actually there, caring, and more importantly sober.. He knew his mother was gone and he wanted her back. But he had a song that he would sing to himself and he started to sing to himself as a few tears filled his eyes.
"And there is holes in the floor of heaven, and her tears are pouring down. That's how you know she's watchin, wishing she could be here now. And sometime when I'm lonely, I just look up and see. That there's holes in the floor of heaven and she is watchin over me..."
As he drove home he let his tears fall. As much as he hated him for what he had done, he was still his father and he loved him. Not in the way that he loved the fox, not even the way he loved Legend... But in the way that he kinda cared for his father, even if he destroyed his childhood and his life.
Parking outside his house he turned the trucks flashers on and ran inside. Grabbing a brown work jacket and a pair of cowboy boots he returned out at the truck. Walking to the drivers side he put on the jacket and opened the door, sitting down on the trucks floor.
Looking out at the field he slowly slipped his boots on one by one.
"Why do I have to be there?" He thought to himself. "Why does it matter, I guess I wont know till I get there."
Climbing into his truck he sighed again. He had only known his father drunk. He was hardly ever around when he was sober. The father was either working, sleeping or drinking. He hated it when he was drunk. But that was the father he knew. The only one he knew.
Turning right into the driveway, he passed a large number of cars, and furs dressed in suits and morning dresses. He knew his father had known many people, but didn't figure many people cared about him. It shocked him to see the pastor of the local church entering without a Bible.
"He must not be preaching so what is he doing here?" He said in almost a mumble.
Parking the large truck he steps out to the black top. Not really standing out of the crowd he made his way to the large white building he stopped at the large wooden sign on the wall outside of the door. Looking at it for a minute he shook his head after reading it to himself.
McCready's Funeral Home
Today; John Uniden
Public welcome
5:30-7:30
Mark firmly grabbed the handle to the white door and walked into the building, and took a seat in the back by himself.