Roulette

Name: ROULETTE
Gender: Female
Age: 4 Years
Rank: Omega
Breed: Tosa x Volkodav
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Mate: No
Altered: No

Height: 25” (inches)
Weight: 90 lbs
Color/Patterns: Rou is a light cream colour with a faint tan tints in the form of a mask, as well as her lower legs, back and tail. She has a green eye, the other is gone.
Body Structure/Particular features: Roulette in a thicker built dog with a long body- though her form is more slim than boxy. She has short fur that acts rather water resistant to small amounts of water, as well as protects her from wind chill for the most part. Under her fur are many small scratches and scars that have healed over with time, though she has a few wider scars that are still very much visible. However her most prominent scar is a  streak-like wound from a pocket knife over her right eye. This lead to the loss of her right eye. So it remains closed. While the other prominent scar is from the same knife, just dragged against her head as the intruder attempted to free his arm from her grip.

Personality:

POSITIVES


LOYAL
Despite having a rough start to her childhood Roulette makes it very obvious to those she trusts that she is very grateful and rewards them with her undying loyalty. Although her loyalty doesn’t falter, it is quite difficult to get close enough to her for this to happen.

BRAVE
Roulette has definitely been through the ringer- quite literally! She may be quiet in sound, but her heart speaks louder than words do when she solidly stands her ground. This was a trait learned through months of training with Ronnie as it was a very important skill to have.

HONEST 
This girl definitely does not shy away from the truth, though she may consider, her mouth takes initiative and speaks for itself. Roulette is often very upfront about how she feels, as long as the meaning or cause isn’t too deep down.

EASY GOING
Rou is very easy to talk to, and isn’t normally rude unless provoked to be like such. Otherwise the Tosa cross is a very quiet dog who enjoys listening to those around her- the good and the bad.

PROTECTIVE
Other than the first two years of her life, Rou has been playing the role of a hard dog. This role doesn’t easily just sift by. It’s a habit hard to break, and she doesn’t seem to want to either. She likes to stand up for others when they can’t do it them self.

NEGATIVES

RESERVED
Roulette likes to refrain from getting too close to other dogs. Although she is responsible in terms of doing as she’s told, she had the internal fear of being abandoned once more. With this, Rou doesn’t like to open up, especially if it has something to do with her personal trivia.

LACK OF SELF WORTH/ SELF ESTEEM
Rou is quick to give credit to others for a job well done, however is a rather big hard-ass towards herself. Although it’s great to improve, the Tosa cross never believe she could even potentially be good enough until Ronnie had admitted his opinion of her.

DISCONNECTED
Although Roulette doesn’t mind other dogs, she’s very cautious of everyone. She isn’t quick to judge, but she is quick to turn the other way if she can. This does not count towards the dogs who manage to get close to her. They’re held in a special place in her heart.

DOESN'T TRUST EASILY
Only few dogs can typically get through to Roulette. She’s very cautious of those she speaks to, and she lacks the drive to learn more about a dog unless they initiate.

SELFLESS
When dealing with problems or handling a situation, Rou likes to think of it from if not all, then most points of view. She considers herself last every time to assure happiness upon the select dogs. She cares more about another life than her own because she’s aware that she’s a fairly hardy dog.










Pre-group history: 

I didn’t exactly grow up like your regular pup, infact I didn’t even really know my parents very well. My mother was a street dog baiter, and my father- I have no idea. I was the sum of some sort of one night stand. It honestly makes me feel real’ shitty thinking I was some sort of accident, but we have to accept who we are one day. So why not now?

I came from the city in a more shady type of subdivision. I was raised on a fur mother by the name of Heath. She was very sweet and supportive to me, just as I expected a mother to be. My biological mother however was what you would call a deer in the head lights. A skittish girl, marked with dozens of scars and a fear of people. But at least she had a reason. I can’t say I’d enjoy being tossed into a caged area with vicious canines who were hungry for souls. But at least in the end she had her well deserved freedom. Heath described to me that she had wandered over a rainbow bridge. I thought the sound of it was quite funny, considering rainbows were only reflections of light. I never quite understood her statement until I had filled in the blanks on my own and realized she wasn’t ever going to do an annual check up on me anymore. This didn’t bother me too much considering I didn’t have much connection to my mot

her- not even enough to know her name.

But enough about her I suppose. I guess this has to be about me.. I was a pretty big puppy, Heath had told me I always stuck out like a sore thumb. She said it was a human phrase but she only meant well of it. I had many brothers and sisters, though none were actually biological, but more like foster siblings. They weren’t Heath’s pups either, but she raised them. I never fit in and my pup hood was not the most comfortable. I’d be woken up constantly to vicious snarling, barking and the not so occasional beaten whimper. I grew up and shared a territory with blood thirsty beasts, all with the scars to prove such. It wasn’t uncommon that they’d beat each other much farther than submission and into more of a critical state. I spent the majority of my life in a crowded storage room with garbage heaping in the corners. The humans had no use for me so I had the predestined fate of my mother. I wasn’t bulky enough, and I sure wasn’t strong enough with the food we had been given- which was very little. So little that I had lost nearly half my siblings to starvation. We slept with their corpses as the humans only came in to feed us about once in a week, eventual deciding to dispose of the rotting bodies weeks later after their death. Life definitely wasn’t simple growing up but Heath egged me on, giving me the strength I very much so needed in order to push through.

Her death devastated me, and left me rather empty. I had no more will power to continue, and I didn’t ever even consider continuing to fight for my life like this. We had little light, it was cold, and the puppies were all pushing nearly a year old now. I myself had been tossed into the same cage my mother had until it started to become a horrible schedule. My job was to rile those dogs up, and if I didn’t I’d get beaten with some sort of blunt or sharp object. I became rather good at playing keep away with the killers in the small sandy arena, sparing myself from any sort of preventable damage. The humans didn’t seem to mind too much, because I was technically still doing my job.

My life was hell the next two years. I was nothing but some sort of tease of a feast to these disgusting creatures. I was to the point that every dog there had some sort of pit against me and immediately fired up as I was thrusted into the dusty ring. My living space was no longer in the small storage room but in a see through metal barred crate that barely fit my size. All always went according to schedule until one night I locked eyes with a large monster size of a man. I don’t remember all of what he had said to the dog handlers, but I do remember their disgusted features as the carelessly pointed gestured towards me. I was being centred out again, and I most definitely did not like that wrenching feeling in my gut. I wasn’t scheduled to go in there again today so there must’ve been another reason, and there was.

The shady man had taken me home that night, fitting me with a thick leather collar that had the feature of a choke chain attached to the clasp ring. I wasn’t an overly pushy dog so I suppose he had it for safe measures. Eventually I grew quite fond of the man, learning he went by the name of Ronnie. He was gentle with me for the most part aside from the times he got frustrated with my training. I would like to think I’m a rather smart dog, but these orders he was instructing were very unique and intricate.

He trained me for roughly 3 months before he truly started to give me any sort of praise. I didn’t mind it because that’s how I grew up. But it really did a number on my confidence when he talked about how far I’d come, sometimes with the odd patting of my flank saying “That’s my Roulette. They should’ve took a chance on you.” Was I miscalculated in my former building? Where they really missing out on much? Those questions still float around my cleaner and less scrambled head to this day. I personally had never thought I was all that much other than a plain mutt with neutral intentions. I just wanted to survive.

Eventually I was capable to pay my rent with Ronnie. To do so I’d watch the house, scare away any potential trespassers, and come along with him to drug deals yo assure his safety as much as possible. It wasn’t an entirely good job, but I definitely considered it more comfortable than living in a small crowded room, or even a cage on my own surrounded by terrified mutts. I wasn’t looking out for just myself anymore, but Ronnie as well. It made me feel good because I hadn’t ever really had this sense of connectivity aside from with Heath. But I feel she’d be proud of me too, just like Ronnie.

More in-depth of Ronnie, he wasn’t an overly terrible guy. Sure, he had a bad reputation, but I had a rather positive life in his home. Ronnie was a drug dealer, he had a lot of people on his tail. A lot of angry people. I wasn’t ever quite sure why because I was under his wing and never quite witnessed his wrath or scheming ways first hand. He was rather honestly with me and only had a few rules that I learned in short time.
Do not let strangers into the flat. They are a risk and potentially armed, dangerous, and with the taste for blood.
Sleep near the door at night. Sleep, but be prepared to get up quickly.
Do not go into the bathroom. There’s dangerous materials for dogs, and limited stock of ingredients for his cooking.
Last but not least, stand your ground and listen to orders immediately.
Someone had gotten into the flat one night with I’ll intentions towards a Ronnie. I stood my ground that was for sure, but my fault was I was unaware the tall and lanky man was armed. The room was very dark, but I could smell him freeze with hesitance before entering the apartment. He looked to be quite weathered and maybe not to the extent of his senses. He could have been under the influence of drugs as the majority of people Ron was connected to was. Whether he was a dealer or a consumer was completely a mystery, but he had a heavy stench of danger in him thicker than cologne.

I lost my eye that night when the man retaliated against my jaw’s grip. He plunged some sort of small shiv into me, then pulled it out only to drag it along my face until I had the man on the ground with bruised ribs. I held him still until Ronnie rushed out of the bathroom where he had been busy working. The intruder’s knife had been thrown halfway across the room with the impact I had settled on him. Ronnie came over, placing a shift kick to his temple before knocking the creature out cold. And for the first time ever I saw my human’s emotional barrier crumbling. Gently dragging a finger over my cheek, he leaned over to flicker the light on. He was struck with my wounds of bravery. The ones inflicted by my actions to protect him. My eye was shut tightly in a singing pain as my adrenaline began to run cold again- the warm feeling of blood dripping down my muzzle as Ronnie examined the open ugly flesh wound streaking down my once surprisingly scarless face. He pitied me. I’ve never felt that kind of emotion towards me, but I could definitely tell that he felt very bad.

Ronnie cleaned me up, and I healed over the next two weeks fairly well. My story was just straightening out again when there was a rumbling knock at the door one afternoon.

Ronnie was being arrested. A police man and a tan malinois with a dark mask stood outside the front door. I couldn’t make out the police man’s features, but I noticed the dog who peered through the distorted glass framing the door. Ronnie rushed to his feet and rushed past me to the bathroom. I assumed this had to do with his business.

There was another, more impatient knock at the door

“Mr. Valkez, police department. We need to investigate for reported illegal drugs.”

Ronnie looked fast, frowning deeply as he hauled me to the back door while I willingly followed. Confusion swarmed my brain before everything clicked together like a puzzle.

He was letting me go.


Before I was gently lead out the door with careful hands he told me this;

”Whatever you do, beautiful, do not turn around. I want you run out there and possibly find another home. Who couldn’t love a dog like you? You’re very special, Roulette. I want you to run away. You could potentially be put to sleep if you stay. You’ve got blood on your paws, but you’re a good girl, honest.”

With that I was shooed off. I still think of him from time to time. I wonder how he’s doing. If he’s well. Or if he was put to sleep like he said I may be. I try not to let this get the best of me anymore. Confused and empty as I feel, moving on is the best option for me.

So I wandered.









Group History: TBA

Relationships: TBA



TRIVIA

- Her past nicknames Ronnie called her were; Chancie, Little pistol, and Rou.
- She has a soft voice despite her appearance
- Faintly smells like Ronnie’s cologne
- Absolutely loves reading the human language