“Only if you help me,” Don replied, already shuffling through his cabinets. “But first I gotta feed it. And… fix it up. Guess I know what my day looks like.”
He brought out some salted dried pork from a cabinet, and a hairbrush from his pocket. He slipped one of his pocket knives out, too.
He sat down a few paces from the animal, coaxing it out of it’s corner and feeding it periodically as he began cutting off mats, and combing through its coarse grey fur.
“Help you name it? Easy. Bear.” He gestured to the grey dog, then to the bite on his arm. It was worth noting that Oleg still hadn’t put a shirt on. “Feral like a bear. Bites.. not like a bear, but that’s okay. I forgive him for that.” He laughed, gnawing at his fingernails. “Good dog name.”
“Bear,” Don repeated happily. “I like it.”
He continued to comb the dog, humming to it cheerful, yet calmly. It kept contentedly gnawing at the salted pork, but Don didn’t seem to mind sharing his food.
“Should we bathe it?” Oleg moved to sit on the floor as well, still a respectable distance from the dog. “He’s dirty. You don’t want a dirty dog in your trailer for the amount of time we’re moving.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Don mumbled, cutting out one of the mats with his knife, being extremely careful. “I’m just trying to get him relatively… combed, before we do that.”
Don raised an eyebrow, continuing his work as the terrier-looking dog sat. “I have that pool I practiced in earlier. If not, we could just hose ‘em off.”
Kosmo poked their head into the trailer where the two were. "It was very old, don't worry. The corpse I mean." They said plainly, hoping that would make it somehow better. They had stopped by the trailer and dropped off their bag before coming here.
Oleg knitted his brows in thought, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I feel that’s worse, if the body was old.” He sighed, watching the dog. “Isn’t it?”
Don shot a quick glance when Kosmo poked in, but quickly returned to his work. At the new person, Bear flinched back into the corner, but Don laid a hand on its head, coaxing it. Bear’s nerves soon calmed, and he went back to gnawing on the food.
Kosmo kneeled on the floor, holding a hand out for the dog. "Hello there, don't mind me. Eat your food then you're welcome to come say hello." They said softly, focus directed at Bear because dogs are more important then humans.
“How many more.. ah.” Oleg paused for a moment, thinking of the word. “Tangles..? Are left?” He pointed to Bear.
Slicing out another mat, Don flipped in the pocketknife. “Just a few.”
Quickly, he combed out some more stickers, adding to the pile beside him.
“There,” he mumbled, softly petting the dog’s head. “We can take him out now ‘n hose him down.”
Don slowly rose, keeping his hand down so Bear wouldn’t spook so sudden.
Oleg nodded, standing slowly as well. His face was still the cold, sharp mask he normally wore, but his eyes were soft when he looked at the dog. “Be careful when washing. He bites, you remember.” He dusted off his hands on his pants, though he quickly nestled his fingers in the fuzzy hair on top of his head.
“Uhuh,” Donny grunted, leading Bear from the trailer. He brushed passed Oleg politely, trying to lead the dog out. He grabbed a bar of soap from his counter, slowly walking down the stairs backwards as to keep his eyes on the pup.
As the dog followed, Don looked up at Oleg.
“I assume you’re helping me, or am I doing this myself?” he laughed.
“I want to help, if you’ll have me.” Oleg nodded, keeping an eye on the dog as well instead of looking at Donny. “Bear is a good dog. He needs good people to take care of him. I am one of those good people.”
Don gave Oleg a genuine smile. “Yuh sure are, bud. And, yeah. I’m not sure how he’ll react to water.”
Don led the dog over to the spickett at the back of his trailer, taking a small hose from a compartment under the trailer. He hooked it to the spickett, turning the nob and having cold water begin flowing. He took the bar of soap in one hand and the hose in the other.
“Wanna hold him down, or be the one washin?’” Don said with a half-smirk.
Oleg grinned at Don’s agreement.
He crouched down by the spicket, head cocked. “I’ll hold Bear. I like him, but I don’t like him enough for me to put my hands near the face or throat.”
“Don’t blame you,” Don admitted, slightly nervous himself. He slowly began to rinse the pup. Bear whimpered and shifted, but Oleg’s hold kep him steady. DOn washed him, drenching himself as well. He cooed to the dog, keeping a soft and steady voice to calm the dog. He steered clear of Bear’s face and muzzle, working from the upper back down to the dog’s haunches, then rinsing the paws.
Oleg muttered encouraging words to Bear, though they were in his native Russian. He gently patted the dog’s head when they were done, after letting Bear first smell his hands. “There. Clean. A good, clean dog.” He nodded to himself, seemingly proud of his idea to bathe Bear.
“Wet,” Don muttered, either explaining the dog’s state or his own. His clothes were soaking, but he didn’t necessarily care.
“Aye, Bear,” Donny began, putting the hose back. “Better get us some towels, eh?”
He patted the dog and led him slowly back to the trailer. Don quickly dissapeared inside, then walked right out with a towel around his shoulders, and another one in his hands. He slowly dried off the dog, careful to not spook him.
Oleg stood up, stretching his back. “Ah.. I have to go back to my trailer. I have some final cleaning before this evening.“ He took another few
moments to stretch, giving Don a small wave and Bear a small pat. He yawned, his ungraceful form slinking back to the rusty trailer.
“Alright. Catch you this evenin,’” Don replied, tousling his short umber hair with the towel. He did the same to Bear soon after. Don sat down on one of his steps, giving his best attempt at drying off the dog. When Bear was as dry as he could be, Don lead him back inside, shutting the door behind them. The dog instantly went back to his corner, laying down and looking absolutely exhausted. Don didn’t blame it— it had been a stressful day for Bear.
Don took up his position in his neatly made bed, putting his hands behind his head and crossing his legs over one another.
From Oleg’s trailer, the sound of a broom sweeping furiously could be heard, even inside. There were a few angered Russian words, followed by more sweeping sounds and what sounded like a yowling cat.
He dropped the broom by the front door, shutting all of his windows. It made the place unbearably stuffy, but at least no more stray cats would be getting in. He finished putting everything in its rightful place for travel- everything was stored away safely, especially the rifles he used during shows. Oleg crashed onto his bed, rubbing his face with a hand and sighing.
Don had fully fallen asleep, as did Bear. The dog upkept his place in the corner near Don’s bed, and the man had crashed almost instantly. His back still hurt from falling off the roof that morning, but asleep he could only feel it when he rolled over. His hands spread wide and his legs askew, he was tossed into a light slumber.
On the other hand, Oleg couldn’t find himself asleep. He simply stared up at the ceiling, the back of his hand resting on his forehead. Outside, a light shower of rain began to pitter down. It was skier a passing shower, of course, but the sounds were enough to lull Oleg off to sleep without a fuss.
The sound of whimpers shook Donny from his sleep, and he tiredly shifted his gaze to Bear curled up in the corner. The rain on the metal roof was loud— clearly Bear thought so. His grey form was shaking slightly.
“C’mere bud,” Don said gently, letting his hand fall. His voice was raspy from sleep, but he tried his best to sound comforting. The dog, with tail between legs, skittered over to Donny’s hand. It laid down there, Don’s hand still resting on its back.