Elf

elf

PERSONALITY

Elf is just a pup who never had time to grow up. She relies on her sense of humor to keep her going, and always takes time to see the brighter side of things. Despite her somewhat dark past, she remains amiable to all who can appreciate her company.

Towards strangers, she may seem standoffish and shy. Elf is always weary of those who would take advantage of her small size, giving others the impression that she's paranoid, when really, she's just tediously cautious.

Towards acquaintances and friends, Elf will begin to show her true colors. The small dame becomes accepting of mistakes and flaws, perhaps even a little flirty. She is no longer expecting the worst from you, her guard is down.

Though she has very little experience with love, Elf is naturally loyal and dedicated, proving that she would be exceptionally sincere in a relationship. It can also be noted that she is quite gentle and patient, giving her plenty of potential to suite a motherly role.

Despite having a rather bubbly nature, Elf has a mean streak when it comes to dealing with those who do not reflect her kindness. The dame is not afraid to give her all in a fight, even if it means she must fall in the process. What she lacks in strength, she makes up for in wit and durability.

HISTORY

Elf was born in Scotland, in a cozy little cottage located on the coast. Her mother, a Rough Collie named Blume, was owned by an older German farmer who was ready to retire and live out his days somewhere quaint.

A few months after the family had settled in, Blume fell pregnant by the neighboring farm dog. This was not the collie's first litter, and she was not unprepared. It was mid-evening when Blume delivered seven pups in her whelping basket, four females, three males.

All were healthy and strong, with varied shades of brown. But one female sported a brighter coat, alike to the trees during fall. The pup also happened to be the runt of the litter.

Once they were weaned, the whelps regularly feasted on mutton. The farmer tended sheep, and he would always set aside extra meat for the seven new family members. Alas, romping in the rich green fields and sniffing the sea could only last for so long, as the pups had became much too large to stay. It was time to find new homes.

The farmer took all seven of the whelps to the nearby market. Most of them sold quickly for some reason or other- mostly because another farmer needed a companion to tend his herds, or a small child wanted a puppy. But, for some reason, the runt never got chosen. She came close, when a little girl began to cry when her mother told her she couldn't get the dog, but it just wasn't meant to be.

At the end of the day, when the runt was the only one left in the crate, the farmer decided to keep her. Blume was getting older, and he liked the rambunctiousness of young life. He named her Elf, and Blume obliged, later telling her pup that eleven was an odd number- and so was she, in the best kind of way.

Elf grew quickly once she was the only one eating out of the bowl she had previously shared with her brothers and sisters. Though she never came close to being as large as she should have been, she never faltered when the farmer ordered her to control the sheep or round them up.

When Elf was eleven months old, Blume passed away. The farmer was heartbroken over losing the thirteen year old dog- she had been with him since the beginning. Once he accepted the loss, Elf became closer to her master than ever- she would have died for him, if it came down to it.

Since the farm was some distance from the main cities and towns, it wasn't unusual for wild animals to take advantage of the cattle and sheep. Numbers began to go missing, and one farmer swore he saw a wild dog making off with a lamb. The information was exchanged quickly and soon everyone was on the look-out.

It was in the middle of the night, and the farmer was sleeping soundly. Elf had taken notice of the missing sheep, and had slept on the porch. Soon enough, she was awoken by the sound of rustling in the pen. Leaping to action, the small dog slipped under the posts and investigated. An ewe had just given birth, and was licking her offspring clean. However, laying in wait, was the culprit. He darted past Elf and snagged the lamb, tearing into it's neck.

The sheepdog promptly reacted by engaging the savage animal. She suffered lacerations to her paw and shoulder, but was otherwise fine. The dog, surprised by Elf's tenacity, decided the meal wasn't worth it and left the farm. By then, the sounds of snapping and snarling had the farmer grabbing his gun and storming outside. All he saw was a dying lamb, a panicked ewe, and Elf, smeared in blood that was partially her own, partially the dog's, and partially the lamb's.

Though he was certain Elf was responsible, the farmer couldn't bring himself to shoot Elf. Instead, he tied her to the porch and left her there until morning. Once the sun had risen past the mountains, he took her a few miles away and dumped her into the wilderness.

Lost and confused, the runt was alone for the very first time in her life. She lingered on the road for days, thinking the farmer would return.

When Elf was finally convinced that her master wasn't coming back, she began to wander aimlessly. Being at such a small size, drivers on the road could barely see her, and one morning she suffered for it.

It was foggy, and Elf was searching for scraps. To her surprise, there was a tasty roadkill that had been squashed the night before, so she helped herself. Too focused on the food, and too hungry to care, she failed to notice the car that was approaching.

Elf yelped in pain and doubled off of the road. Her legs twitched and jerked for a while, before going completely still. The car's front bumper had caught her hip, and the impact rendered her unable to use both hind legs.

She stayed on the road for days, barely able to fend for herself. Occasionally a vulture or coyote would stroll by, giving her trouble until they figured she was still much too alive to eat and left.

Yet, Elf still had time, and an old elderly woman noticed her on the way home. Her accent was thick, and Elf barely knew any English, as the farmer had spoken choppy bits of it himself, but she licked the woman's hand and appreciated the help.

The woman's home was small and comforting. She laid Elf infront of the hearth, where a warm fire burned. A few hours later, a strange man, wearing a strange white coat, with strange metal tools arrived. After a sharp tingle in her lower arm, Elf became very sleepy, to the point where she barely knew what was going on. After the dog came to her senses, she was wearing bandages and her legs were placed in weird devices that made her very uncomfortable.

Months passed, and Elf stayed with the elderly Scottish woman. The woman, named Margaret, took to calling the small dog Little Girl. It wasn't far off, and she was kind, so Elf responded whenever she heard it.

Elf remained with the kind woman for another year, up until she was two years old. Disaster struck on the eve of summer- Margaret had a heart attack, and died. At the time, Elf had her own litter of puppies, just a few weeks old. She hovered over her three whelps as they wheeled the kind old lady out of the house, and felt her heart tighten when they came her way.

Elf lashed out and paced, hoping to scare away the unfamiliar faces. But they tricked her, and soon, her pups were gone too. Elf suspected they were coming back, so she ran as far away from the scene until she collapsed beside of a babbling brook. With no collar, and no home, Elf was just another stray.

For a few more months, the small dog avoided people and roads, hunting small game and finding rotting trees or hollowed logs to sleep in. She occasionally carries around a dirty teddy bear that had been abandoned by some small child for comfort.

To this day, Elf remains feral, searching for a place that would accept her.