A dog barking at thunder: no greater courage.
As I was stumbling in the night to get the the washroom, I felt my dog brush against my leg. But then I heard my dog barking upstairs at something else.
The sound of the growling dog pulled me from a deep slumber. I don’t own a dog.
While lying in bed trying to go to sleep, I heard my dog scratching my bedroom door. As I got up to let her in, I found her sleeping at the side of the bed.
The thing looked strange, it’s teeth all crinkly and eyes crazy like they were cut out and pasted back in by that fat kid that sat behind you in third grade and wheezed all the time. The description read “Last known Maori kuri – collected 1876 Catlins, New Zealand” and you didn’t even know that there were such things as Maori dogs and now you find out that they are all extinct and you Google it and find out that Hawaiian poi dogs are also extinct and you wish that instead of dogs that all red headed fat kids were extinct.
Bereft of peace, I couldn’t bear the agony of watching my poor doggie’s last moments of life. I turned away, covering my eyes, as the injection went in.
I swear it is the last time.
Don’t fret, my little ochre space-dog.
Dog on my left and dog on my right.
Dogs all around me.