Green Eyes Staring For a Thousand Years

I buried my dog today, Again, For the third time. I had named him Zombie, a puppy with green eyes and wild grey fur, staring at me from the dog pound cage. First time, when he was two years old, a car hit him, and did not stop But Zombie stopped Dead. And I buried him under the ash tree. Next full moon, he came back, scratching at the door, whining I almost jumped out of my skin After a half bottle of whiskey, I gently patted him, Knocking off the dirt and grass and dried up ash leaves. He ate a whole can of chicken chow, and lay down to sleep in front of the fireplace, warming up. Three weeks later, the garbage truck that he was chasing, crushed him against a fire hydrant. He looked happy, and I buried him in the same grave under the ash tree, but a little bit deeper this time around. Next full moon, the scratching and the whining, and the whiskey spilling out of my shaking glass. He lasted a whole two months, and then a cop chasing a thief shot my pup accidently, right between the eyes. The grave? Well this time, I dug down 6 feet, and placed a granite bench on top. Full moon is here in three days, and I need to get more whiskey. And chicken chow.