Dead Land Journal April 30th 2027

I visited the local animal shelter today. My sister had been an animal lover. Not one of those PETA freaks, she just loved animals. But she died a year ago from congestive heart failure while waiting for a transplant. Had she been alive when the dissappearance happened I probably would have thought of it sooner. As it was I was too late for all but three dogs and a cat. The stench was awful.

I let them all out of their cages. One of the ungrateful curs bit me. Didn't break the skin, I had on new jeans and the dog was weak from starvation. They probably won't survive, but at least they stand a better chance now than they did in those cages.

It would be a waste of time at this point to check all the animal shelters. The only reason these survived as long as the did was a leaking roof let in just enough rainwater to keep them from dying of thirst.

The last one was a huge Rottweiller. A big, powerful dog. Even emaciated as it was I was glad I had brought my gun, a Beretta 9mm I had picked up recently. I opened the door and it she just looked me and wagged the little stump of a tail she had. At times like this I could understand why my sister had liked dogs so much. Most dogs will forgive any transgressions in exchange for a simple scratch behind the ears.

I eventually coaxed her out of the cage and out into the lobby where I had ripped open some bags of dogfood. This distracted her long enough for me to get back to my car.

In spite of the odds against it, I have a good feeling about her chances of survival.

Today was a good day. I haven't said that in a long time.

© 2009 R. Keith McBride