Dark stories, tales of whimsy and random brain droppings.

Dog Days

My life will never be the same. All it took was one moment of lazy exasperation. Supper steamed on the table, taunting me with its awesomeness. I was hungry. Hungry enough to eat the asshole out of a skunk as my grandfather would say.

Mom told me to call the dog in. Sheba liked to run with the horses across the street. We usually just let her, but we had to go into town. I don’t remember what it was. We never got there.

Raking blueberries is tiring work and I felt it despite my teenage strength. I wanted to eat. I wanted to get back from town and I wanted to sleep.

Opening the front door, I yelled ‘Sheba’ at the top of my lungs. I could see her as a speck atop the hill across the road. She came barreling at full tilt. I called for her to hurry. After all, my dinner was getting cold.

Ears laid back, she ran as if she was elevated off the ground. Like a bullet she came larger and larger in to view.

Sheba barked as she saw me and didn’t stop when she approached the road.

Neither of us saw or heard the car round the corner.

And now I sit in the backseat of our station wagon. Dad’s driving like a demon and Mom is yelling at me.

I don’t hear her.

I cradle Sheba in my arms. Strangely, there isn’t much blood. Just a little from her snout where the grill clipped her. Sheba’s tongue lolls bluish out the side of her mouth as she breathing labors irregularly.

Halfway into town, she opens her eyes and licks my hand.

Photo by y_katsuuu

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