Lion Head Mesa coming up roses

what a miserable thing the little neb of akashigo was reduced to.

once perfumed and brushed, clad in luxurious finery, the chihuahua now reeked of uncleanness, his fur tangled and matted, his sweater filthy and unwashed. the scent of his hosts now close to his skin, and his little mouth stained dark by the raw meat he was fed in portions generous for his size.

he was as far removed from his days at that lovely seaside estate of his mistress as he could fantom, and it made him miserable. 

the neb, who had in his smallness and oddness avoided entanglement with the politics and major events of akashigo, now walked down the halls of this cold, alien palace, and even the tinkling of his collar seemed somehow lesser and lacking in excitement he had in throves in the early days of his stay, slowly washed away as the days, then weeks passed and nobody came to look for him, human or four legged. 

and still, he kept his gaze to the east, and in those dark, early mornings when he thought none would be bothered by him, he howled in his squeaky voice, as if to summon his beloved mother to him.