GUARDIAN [omfg done]

Guardian sure is one hell of a mutt. Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever, Chesapeake Bay Retriever, and Australian Kelpie were all thrown into the mix of bloodlines, and out came little Guard. He isn't very hard to describe and is often mistaken for different breeds such as the common Labrador. His pelt is a copper color in the summer, and brownish in the winter. White splashing on can be found on his muzzle as well as a few white toes on his hind paws. Not much as far as coloration and pelt patterns, but he is still a character like no other, but that's for later. As for his eyes, they are rich in color. Almost a dark amber of sorts, full of life and always taking in every inch of detail to be found.

His build is hefty and thick, muscular and ample. Broad shoulders sport strong legs bred in the various breeds he is, for working and hard labor in field work and hunting. His hind legs are a trifle higher then his forelegs because of the Chessie in him. He is approximately 70lbs, and 24" at the withers. As for Another Chessie feature in Guardian is the double-water-proof pelt. Small sections of waves appear along his shoulder blades before fading into his back. The white on his muzzle and feet comes from the Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever. The marks are not a fault in show and are commonly seen on Duck Tolling Retrievers. [ 251/200 ]

Guardian is truly like no other. His mind works differently then the average canine and contains things you could only dream about. His knowledge is extensive and when he feels something is of no longer use to him, he 'deletes' it from his memory never to be thought about or seen again.

Some things he deleted as a youthful dog did some damage, but as the years went by, Guard moved on from things that became wounded and damaged in his life. It also doesn't help that he has some PTSD, playing games with his head. Although his mind is vast, his PTSD sometimes alters memories and he never remembers it the same way again. Much like the way you associate certain things with certain words, may be to help you remember.

With a broad span of knowledge and oblivious military endued PTSD, Guardian is very skilled in observation and fighting. It is seemingly hard for him not to deduce everything he can about another person within the very few seconds of meeting them. He is also what others may label him as, a knowledge snob. Guard truly believes his knowledge is far more superior then anyone else's.

Another huge trait of Guard is snarky. He is very, very critical and testing. Always pushing the limits of those around him and testing his unspoken theories about canines he has come in contact with. Mind you, this snarky outlook is caused by his minor anxiety. Another way to get past his never ending list of problems, he is very meticulous, taking extreme care of every detail much like an extremist forensic scientist.

They say the war changes people, but you wouldn't notice it if you met Guard. As his name implies, he keeps his guard up. The war stiffens bones and makes you alert. Two thing Guard had always been and had, but if you grew close to him, you'd see how it changed his way of life. Not only his personality, but the way he chooses to do things.

He is hardly an emotional canine, and unlike the stereotypical, 'get close to me and I open up,' Guard is heartless. Never caring for anyone, not even his denmates or packmates. Sure Guardian would risk his life for any of them, but love will never get in his way, cloud his eyes and thrum in his ears. You could say he didn't believe in love, or that it existed and you'd be pretty accurate. No one asks him, but if they did he would likely respond by changing the subject or simply denying the thought of it without the slightest hint of hesitation. [ 448/300 ]

Guardian was born in London as a mutt in the pound. No one expected much form him, pushed him away when he jumped on them in greeting and always kept walking, never stopping to admire his clearly evident amount of smarts. It wasn't until the British Army in London fell short of Bomb Detecting Dogs. He looked most like a bird hunting dog, considering most of the pound's residents were Pit Bulls or of that nature.

They took him in for training and it turned out to be okay. Pretty soon, he was ready. All trained up, energy level toned down by age and force, he was steady and completely trusted by his handler. Guardian never knew the woman's name, but she had a strong voice. It was clear to him, through easy deduction, that she was not very highly ranked but demanded respect without noticing.

She was unaware of how she took to controlling things, giving out orders, and making sure everyone made it out alive. Guard was proud to have her as a handler, and tried to make her commanding nature noticed by the officers, but to no avail did it work.

Together they worked around the roads, sniffing for bomb detection with various other dogs, which made things confusing sometimes, but Guard's insane way of thinking made it simple to separate dog and human scents from what he had been trained to detect. Some of the Elite Bomb Detection Squad was young, youthful, and very amateur in their ways. It was a scary deal working with them, but the humans did nothing to train them more or take them off the team.

So, as one of the younger canines cleared the road safe, Guard went to check, since he was off the leash, only to walk right into the explosion. He was lucky to not have stepped on the bomb and detonate it, but the human who did, was never identified. Sure all recruits are issued dog tags, but his body was strewn all over and mangled quite horribly.

After that, the stakes for the war were high and Guard had been taken back a few paces, stay out of the firing line. The humans still hadn't realized their mistake. So, each time, Guard defied orders and went to check each one. The officers never caught on, but when his handler did, Guardian was let go from the team for failure to follow commands.

The handler he had was moved up in rank once her companion left, and was so booked with war related things, since World War III was still in session, that Guardian had been put back in the pound for lack of ownership from the woman and the people she lent him to.

As he stayed at the pound, PTSD took over and started switching around his memories. The bombs became ever more prominent, shoving their way forwards and planting themselves as his first priority. Everything and anything triggered it. Thunder Storms, Gun Shots, Barking, Anything.

So, one night in the pound went like this. A thunderstorm was rolling in, soft booms could be heard in the distance. As it brewed more and more, Guardian started to pace. The PTSD was messing with his mind and pressing memories forwards. Soon, the pound transformed into the day that dumbass of a dog didn't sniff the bombs out properly. With a crack of lightning echoed by the bang of thunder, the bomb went off, showing him in gravel and pain.

Soon, it was beginning to be too much and Guard started chewing the gate. His teeth broke from constant chewing and shaking. Blood washed out his mouth, mixed with saliva. He looked like a mad dog by the time a hole was made. Blood dripped on the floor in a small pool. Most of it was all over his chin, muzzle, neck, and chest. It wasn't too extensive, considering it didn't take long to break the chain-link fenced door.

At the first moment, Guard escaped. Pushing back all the 'bombs' and 'explosions' he made it out. The pound was near a river, which supported a wheel for generating power to the small town. The storm was still raging, and from shock, Guardian managed to fall into the river and be swept away.

When his body was found, people didn't care too much. But one little boy did. He was the son of a Captain. The Captain of a large vessel headed for America. The young boy pleaded his hear out to get Guardian on board, and soon, his father agreed.

The mutt slept most of the time, but was awoke from his slumber one early morning in particular. The morning the grand vessel hit shore. No one knew at the time, but during its coarse to America, it came in contact with another boat. The damage was done and couldn't be fixed in time, so when they made it from point A to point B, the ship sank.

Thus, the humans drowned, leaving those who chose to be on the top deck at 4am lucky survivors, Guardian included. To the aged canine, it was just another memory to add to his list of ever growing PTSD issues. Now two hefty memories were embedded in his head, daring to be brought forward at the slightest of actions or worse, words. [ 893/300 ]