My first fiction post here will be one of my personal favorite shorts from the past few months. Any other dog lovers out there will understand that this was very tough for me to write, but also very cleansing to be able to create something out of these paranoid fears.
His final true excrement consisted of strands of grass, strings from a rope bone, and a baby carrot, all of which were promptly re-eaten. The future looked grim for dear Max; his human was way damned late this time. The next few days: a drinking binge from the toilet, a spiteful bout of Hershey Squirts on the couch, magically removing his leather collar for a tasty treat, howling for the non-existent neighbors. Max's spirit weakened each morning; the meat on his leg, buried deep beneath the coarse fur, grew more appetizing. Unfortunately, Max was all out of gravy.