The Dog from Hong Kong

It took that scratch down the fur of his spine to wake him up. It's been that way since he can remember, and the comforting feeling of his masters hand caressing the curled wool of a coat always reminded him, of what primitive memory he had, that he was okay.
The human said something. His name?
Hong was is name, and it seemed that that was something he did understand, as it always pertained to him. He was an Akita, born in Hong Kong, or at least found there, which is why his master had given him the name. He remembered little of his pup years, but sometimes he would get flashes when he would sleep. He sees his mother, or his father, being surrounded by ten or so of his clones, suckling from the milk or climbing around to get their turn. Slowly, one by one, they would dissapear, until they were all gone and he was by himself, in the dark rainy Hong Kong alley, all alone with only the hairs standing straight up on his back to support his fear, along with the slight smell of rotten meat from the dumpster. But then he would see his master at the end of the alley, staring at him while the rain bounces off his clear coat, as if he had found what he was looking for.
He replays that moment everyday, it seemed. It was the last time he had feared anything, the last time he had thought of chasing a rat for food instead of play. This man took him through machines that floated very fast for long periods of time, though he himself slept through most of it, and wherever he ended up seemed similar to where he was, except that the strangeness of his masters appearance now seemed to be a commodity.
The human said something, and tugged him along. Two years worth of the same tone and body language was enough for him to now understand a walk was near.
Rarely did he have to be asked twice, unless purposely to elicit a treat, a nice little stub which he craved even if he wasn't craving, and he would do pretty much anything for it. They arrived at the park, the instinct to run was instant, he dashed and dashed and dashed, but no round sphere appeared in front of him, and when he turned around, his master was not chasing him. The confusion only initiates one response, a loud bark which would perhaps let his master know that he wasn't playing the game right. But the human was only laughing, bent at the needs and slapping the ground, he knew what that meant too, and he went too him. Sometimes he would have to do other things for rewards, simple things which somehow made his master so happy.
It scratched his body, it was uncomfortable, and this rope which his master had tied around his body constricted him to burns if he made too quick of a movement. He wrapped it around his stomach, a few times, then around his neck, feeling like a tight version of the harness he wears to go outside. He was uncomfortable, but the caress of his masters hand was enough. It took some time for him to understand what it meant to "bite" the rope, but once he learned, he mastered. This went on for several days, it seemed like years, until he was constantly on guard, waiting for that call, and that following snack. But now, a new sound was being used. He put the rope in his mouth, as by now he was so fast at it it would be there before the syllables finished from the humans mouth. Tail wagging, back straight up and proud just as a dog does when he knows he pleased.
The human shook his head.
He decided to give his obviously delusional master time to regather his thoughts and see that the rope was, indeed, in his mouth.
He shook his head again.
and for weeks, there was no treat. He didn't understand, and in his frustration he felt like a wild animal, he started thrashing on the rope, ripping it back and forth with his neck, blind with only the craving for a tasty reward. He calmed down, and as was expected he waited for the hard tap he received when he did wrong, but he received a treat, to his surprise, and realized that "being bad" was somehow now good, so whenever this new call came, he would thrash the rope as roughly as he could.
He couldn't remember the last time he ran after a ball, or the last time he saw the outside without this continuous running of certain words to get him to pull that rope. There was no longer any relaxation, as soon as he thought he knew, a new call was introduced in which he must do everything in his power to try and figure out the jibrish coming from his masters mouth.
He could never distinguish his confusion from his fear, and now there was both, his master tugged him along but he had grown accustomed to sleeping when the outside was black, he tried tugging his master the reverse, but he was too weak to correct the humans delirium. His dead weight was useless, and he decided to move at the same pace as the man, for at least he was by his side, at least. Passing blocks of grey rock over and over passed his vision, and it would have all been familiar, but the darkness fllashed him back to that dumpster inside that crotch of Hong Kong. But here he was, in another alley, finally stopped next to the heavy breather next to him. Instinctly he whined to escape from the worst place he'd ever imagined himself inhibiting. A scratch and a treat, his elixir, was given to him, and it was that much more content, with a bigger than usual treat to boot, and while he'd never imagine feeling sleepy in this place, fighting his body was useless.
He awoke to the yellow fire, and the surrounding black he passed out too was now yellow and white, but his master was gone. Several minutes passed, along with several whines and howls.The ultimate punishment for whatever he had done wrong. He didn't understand the concept of abandonment, but he understood what lost meant. He could still smell his masters scent on his fur, and, while he was not a hound dog, he could still follow a scent on instinct. There was little memory of the path he took to get to this alley, and he didn't know exactly where his home was, but he found it, rather quickly, too.
He scratched at the door, and his master opened it up to instantly grab the dog and lift him from the ground, spinning him around and around just like he had when he was a pup.
Hong was never more confused in his life, he wasn't sure he he was abandoned, or if this was some kind of game, but one thing he knew is that he never expected this reaction.
He received a whole box of treats, along with a brand new bed waiting in the corner for him, with material almost as soft as his own. He drifted off slowly, his bloated stomach overflowing from the mat. He slept like this for some time, and the days of his training dwindled. The dreams of his home rarely cross his mind anymore, instead the countless repetitions he had engraved into himself. Still, there was more, and his little vacation was over. The walk to the park did not includ the pull harness, and his master tied him to a tree only to test the depths of his primitive instinct. The cage placed a distance in front of the dog was inhabited by a disgusting rat like creature, not as if the difference between rodents ever initiated a different response.
The dogs attempt, if he did, to listen, was futile among his raging angst toward the shrieking prisoner.
The human yelled.
The tone silenced him. They went home after more wasted time. He wasn't aware why his failing of this new test was the reason for the loss of his bed or the reason why the treats no longer came out of his pull harness. Now they only came from his master's hand when he saw fit. But alas, after what seemed like half of his life, he realized making the shouts he was would not change the man's disappointment. His loud shout had morphed into a low fuss, and his head, by some unconscious reflex, created of his spine a rigid plane, and of his nose a strict pointer. The surprise almost knocked the human from his feet has he glanced up from the tiny squared machine he was hunching over. The treat finally came to him, and more as he continued to use his body to point strictly at what he was meant to.
It was no time until he had mastered it, and to increase the help to him, a small red light would fixate itself on the animal he signaled. Longer passes of the days included different animals and objects for him to train his new ability, but eventually those faded as well. It was now simply a man, who did not move unless his master contorted him, whom he was forced to pose his attention.

It was dark and the water smacked against his coat. The only sound was the slow breath of his master, whose eyes did not move from shadowed creature up ahead. The dog remembered everything, never hesitating to point his body too it, keeping himself rigid as a forest tree. The sharp eyes of a canine, he could see a man standing, looking as men did when he was a pup. Before the words had completely set forth from the human's mouth, he had already grabbed the rope into his fangs, and earlier so when the signal to pull it followed. The bump that smacked against the inside of his hears would have knocked him off balance if not for the muffs which covered them. The man, wearing the red dot permanently now on his chest, fell into the light, as the smell of blood swarmed Hong's nostrils.