WIP - Kennel Madness

I don't usually post works in progress, but I have this jotted on a little scrap of paper and don't particularly wish to lose it altogether. So, here's a rare glimpse at some severely unfinished work.

Kennel Madness
The kennel is approximately twice my length and once my width indoors, the outdoor run not much longer. Its floor is concrete and smells of bleach and urine; it is rough beneath my paws and makes my hips ache dully when I lie down even through the thin cushion of my ragged blanket. I have one old rope that tastes like ten other dogs' saliva through the detergent, and a stainless steel bowl, the sound of which hurts my ears on the frequent occasions that I accidentally knock it across the floor. It is very easy to tip this bowl in my daily pacings, which are all I can do to quell the relentless desire to move in this, my tiny stake of the world.

When I am excited, I can not run, so I circle, leap, bark away my energy. The people who look through the chain link of my kennel door make disapproving faces; sometimes I hear their pulses skip and smell their adrenaline surge with fear. They don't understand my enthusiasm just as I don't understand their quiet vocalizations and tense movements as they pass my by. Their fear makes me uneasy and frustrated, so much so that I start to stand at the back of my kennel instead of the front. My tail and ears droop and I avoid their gaze, the hair on my back prickling.

The other dogs are uneasy as well; individually, their barks may indicate aggression, loneliness, excitement, boredom, but it all just blends into one great din reflecting of the terror that breeds in this place. It isn't the wild fear that many of us experienced when our masters abandoned us, or when we found ourselves alone in the chaos of the streets. It is a slow dread that eats at you like a cancer with every passing day, the relentless disquietude of not knowing.