I was lying on the bed chewing a piece of old yellowish rawhide, long and round and super tough until my teeth could work my saliva into it. Then it was just really tough and I could almost dent it. My mates chewed the stuff all the time to keep their teeth clean, but that didn’t work for me. I still brushed my teeth twice a day, although I sort of resented it and wished it wasn’t necessary. It was September maybe, and it was raining, but it wasn’t the start of the long wet winter yet. Just a rainy day like everyplace gets sometimes. The boys were with me, nearby on our blankets. Bush was sleeping, Bandy chewing his own much larger piece of leather, and Barley grooming himself lazily.
We all lifted our heads when we heard the truck pulling up to the house. It didn’t have a muffler, or more likely it had a big rusty hole in the one it had, so it growled and sputtered until whoever was driving shut it off. The boys were outside quickly and I followed them into the drizzling rain, stepping onto the cold gravel and combing my fingers through my long black hair just to get it out of my face. I sat down on the narrow strip of grass that grew alongside the house, sheltered somewhat from the rain, but not minding it either. We’d enjoyed a long hot summer and this was the first visitor we’d had in over a month, probably two, since all I had to keep track of time was my cycle and the moon’s.
A thin man stepped out of the truck, old and stiff and red as a sunset. A real Native American, dressed in Levi’s and a button down western shirt of blue and yellow. He had a wide brimmed hat, dust colored with some dark eagle feathers stuck in the leather band, two of them sticking up and a half dozen hanging down, all in the back so that they seemed woven into his long, milk-white hair.
He had no fear of the dogs either. I could sense his approach like a great calm and even Bandy stopped barking as the old man stood there in the rain, just looking at them like he knew a secret. He glanced at me and then looked again, hard with narrow eyes, and I looked back, curious and unafraid. He had thin compressed lips and a strong jaw to go with his big straight nose. Big ears too, like old people get because everything else stops growing but the ears, the nails, and the hair.
My mates padded back towards me and we all went back into our room. The old man had gone around to the front porch and our Master would deal with him. The boys were damp and their feet dirty, but so were mine and we didn’t really care. We lay back down and gave each other little growls as each of us sought our most comfortable spot. I was on my stomach, with my arms folded under my chin, my face a few inches from Bush’s and I smiled, watching him watching me until his eyelids drooped and finally closed. Bandy had his head on the small of my back, lying between my spread legs with his soft neck along the rounded crack of my ass. That had become their preferred position and my mates fought over it sometimes, much to my own amusement.
I’d fallen asleep by the time our Master entered our room with the old man and we all woke up, but didn’t move except to look at them. My brothers were satisfied that the old man was neither a threat nor a friend, but something else, like a part of the world. Like a tree or a rock, or a cloud perhaps. It’s a difficult concept to put in human words, but enough so you’ll understand that we were in harmony with him.
My Master whistled sharply and called me, “Dare. Come here, girl…” and I roused myself, slipping out from under and between my mates so that I could crawl eagerly across the floor to lick my Master’s hand.
The old man smelled like smoke, which I found a little irritating at first, but his hands were warm and gentle, although hard so I could feel the bones of each finger as he touched me. He felt like he was carved out of wood. They didn’t speak, my Master and the Indian, and I knelt there, rather enjoying the way the old man was touching my face and hair.
“She’s Onijwa,” the man finally said in a solemn voice, surprisingly deep and soft. “A spirit guardian,” he decided, as if passing some sort of judgement on me and the old man sounded a little satisfied, perhaps even smug about it and I wondered what that meant.
“A spirit guardian, eh?” My Master seemed to consider that.
“It will happen among the people when a spirit is born into a child. She has the spirit of the dog within her.” The old man didn’t leave a lot of room for argument, he sounded certain. “It is a blessing that she has discovered her true self. In these times Onijwa are locked up…” he spit out the words, ” … given poisoned medicines to kill the spirit.”
“There is precious little wisdom left in the world, Whitecloud,” my Master said seriously. “That’s why I’m here. Maybe that’s why she found me.”
“Perhaps,” the Indian was nodding. “The Great Spirits do not rest easily. She is welcome here, this Onijwa. She will be one of ours.”
“Thank you.” My Master did not smile, but he sounded a little relieved. I didn’t understand what the old man meant, but it seemed like I didn’t really need to either. “Do we need to do anything else, or…”
“There is the Welcoming. The Onijwa must be received into the tribe and the spirit will reveal itself to my people,” the old man smiled tightly and stroked my head. “Wisdom will return with the next full moon. Bring her to the Table Rock when the sun retires, then she will be welcomed.”
And that was all the old man had to say. He turned and left through the house, my Master walking with him. I yawned and stretched and lapped some water from the big bowl we shared and a few minutes after the noisy truck started and drove away, my Master returned alone.
“That was Whitecloud, the tribal medicine man,” he told me quietly, sitting in his chair while I knelt at his feet. “There’s been some talk, ever since those two boys saw you, that maybe … well, maybe you’re not here because you want to be.”
I thought about that, trying to remember what I’d read on those papers I’d signed so long ago. I was pretty sure I’d agreed to all of this and I was glad that I had. I didn’t know why or how I’d come to enjoy my new life, but it was obvious that I did. I couldn’t imagine myself any other way.
“So I’ve been talking to Whitecloud and he seems to think you’re special,” Master smiled warmly at me, knowing I was special. “Like a dog born in a girl’s body, he says, or something like that.”
I nodded with urgent agreement, my face lighting up happily. I am a dog, I wanted to tell him, the old man was right. But of course I wouldn’t speak unless my Master wanted me to, and he plainly didn’t. He understood me just fine.
“So, we’ll go to this welcoming ceremony, get the official blessing of the council and there won’t be anyone anywhere who can stop you from being yourself,” he chuckled softly. “All I was looking for was a girl who liked dogs and didn’t mind having a little fun with it. How the world turns, eh Dare?”
I smiled and felt my tummy tightening the way it does when I was close to my Master. He hadn’t been so attractive to me when we’d first met, and I found him even less appealing physically everyday I stayed there, just as I found my attraction for my mates increasing. But the physical part had little to do with the feelings I had for him and having my Master nearby, his presence filling my senses, often filled me with a great desire.
Master smiled and stroked my hair and shoulders as I buried my face in his lap. I knew he enjoyed it when I licked and sucked his penis and that day was no exception. As I took his rigid member in my mouth Master called Bandy and the dog soon mounted me, so that our Master could enjoy the sight of us coupling. It was nice for me as well, and I had to fight through my orgasms to bring my Master the pleasure he deserved. When Bandy drove the thick swell of his knot into my pussy, stretching the well-taught walls of my cunt easily, my mouth was filled with Master’s hot sperm.
He held my head so that I would suck and swallow quickly, drinking his seed the way our Master liked and licking him slowly clean, my body jerking wildly under Bandy’s short but powerful strokes. Then the dog was cumming as well, and a fresh flood of warmth filled my womb, trapped inside me by the swollen muscle lodged tightly in my sex. I was cumming too, one long final orgasm as I savored the remains of my Master’s satisfaction and he held my head in his gentle hands while we waited patiently for Bandy’s cock to release me.
This was the essence of my life and the moment when I was most happy.