Written Wednesday, March 11, 2009
He looks at me with a burning fury. He desires my flesh. He hungers for it-- needs it. I won't let him get me.
He lunges at me, and I run the opposing direction. A deep grunt escapes his breath.
He would never have been like this before (he was bitten) (the bite). I don't think that's him in there anymore. My best friend . . . No more snuggling, only this thing remains.
I run into the bathroom, slamming the door just before he reaches it. I hear him desperately scraping the wood-- all logic is gone.
I know what I need to do. But can I bring myself to do it? I remind myself he's already gone--that there's no saving him. Courage, you need courage. You can do it. I look around for a tool . . . I've never done this before; I'm not sure what to use.
Hands shaking--I search through the drawers and cabinets. This might work.
Soul-less because of the bite, and now lifeless by my hand. I drag the heavy body into the backyard to bury it.
I didn't kill him--he was already gone. All I did was get rid of the monster that stayed behind.
I better get to the doctor's soon. This bite could be bad. I just need the hydrophobia vaccine. 7 shots in the stomach.
I say one last goodbye to Happy as I shovel dirt onto his blood-soaked fur.