Betamod

It was a crazy old dog.

The thing about it was, it was so dang dirty who could really tell what color the thing was. It was mottled brown and black, caked with mud and lord knows what else. The wretched thing had but one eye, nearly crusted over with a disgusting green gunk. As awful looking as that eye was, it was vigilant, watchful, knowing. This dog had seen a lot, had been around the block more than a couple times, as they say around here. What teeth it had left, were what I’d say were the important ones. You know, the fangs. They seemed an unnatural length, those teeth. The yellowed, crooked fangs on the bottom extended inches above the snout of the dang thing. The one on the top left had been broken, in some late night exasperating bout to the death with a near equally matched opponent, no doubt. How many times this old dog did what it had to do to walk away from a fight I couldn’t tell you. But, it sure has to be more battles than you or I’d walk away from. It’s almost inspiring when you think about. The thing isn’t much to look at, but dang if it didn’t earn every breath it drew into those old lungs.

That dang thing, it never howled at the moon once. It would only howl on dark moonless nights. The howls sent chills down my spine, boy I’ll tell you. They were broken, bleak, forlorn, and yearning howls. I’d say that moon was the dog’s only friend. Funny thing that having the moon for a friend. But that thing would whimper, whine and sulk when the moon wasn’t about. The old man tried to fashion a light to look like the moon to comfort the old thing, but it wasn’t too effective. The dog tore the thing to shreds. I suppose dogs don’t appreciate false moons too much.

I remember when that old dog died, right there in the old man’s arms. He tried to lift it, to comfort it, as it was taking it’s dying breaths. As soon as the old man lifted the dog of the ground it exhaled one last time, a labored but relieved wheeze.

I’ll be damned if that dang dog didn’t wait for the old man to wake up that morning to die. The old man didn’t take it to well. Never saw him cry before, but that day his tears flowed, like wine, or so goes the saying, you know.

Yeah, dogs can be funny things sometimes.

ZIP FILE