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What the Dog Saw

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What the Dog Saw

My husband and I often walk down to the local corner shop at dusk to pick up a couple off ice-cold beers. There’s this little house with a white picket fence where a tiny dog with a loud bark lives. As soon as he gets a whiff of us he goes absolutely berserk. Here’s what I imagine he is saying. 

The little dog sees legs: 

Hey, hey, hey, stop, stop, wait a minute you guys, HEY! HEEY! Where are you going? Take me with you. Stop, stop for a minute. For the love of God STOP! Murder! Do did you hear me buddy? I said Murder! Murder! There’s been a brutal bloody murder! My masters buried in the back garden. Under the roses. I saw my new master kill him. I am living with a murderer! HELLO! There’s a man buried in the garden and no one listens to me. What is wrong with you humans? Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to me? I’m a dog for Christ’s sake we see everything. I’m so stressed out right now. So stressed out. I think I’m next. Take me with you, please! Why aren’t you stopping? 

The legs pass: 

Dead silence.

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