THE PLAYERS:
Nick
Glenn
 

I awoke one mornign to find my dog weighing heavily on my chest, restricting by breathing.
She sat there, and licked my face until I woke, at which point she stuck her nose right
into my spine. It was a very odd sensation. I shall attempt to
describe it: imaging an ice cube sliding down. There, I've described
a completely unrelated image. Now that you're thoroughly confused," he said to
me, "why not come on a walk with me and we can talk this out?" She nodded, her chain
dangling on the ground even as she did somethign extraordinary --
right there, in front of our very eyes, she turned into a vivacious yellow beast!
Well, not exactly -- she already was vivacious, and yellow... and somewhat beastly.
So let's just say she growled a little. Deep in her throat-like. That made me start and I
started. Oh, yes. Oh yes did I ever start. I like starting. Yeth!
Anyway, back to her beastliness, I didn't like the mane she grew, or the claws,
so since she was my dog, I shaved the mane and clipped the claws. But then she looked like
a cross between a collie and a Mexican Hairless I had obviously screwed up, because
I really wanted a cell phone, not a Mexican Hairless, but
that was open to debate. Yes, debate sure is good. So we debated
about whether or not she was a dog. It was a short debate. It consisted of me repeating "you're a dog,"
and her sniffing my crotch. That got old fast. And I mean fast. So I lay back down
on the floor (face down this time) and let her sniff my
ass for a while. That was more fun. But then, of all people, my
mother walked in. "Why is the dog sniffing your ass -- oh, wait, dogs do that." The dog
looked up at my mother. "Nevermind," my mother said, and walked out of the room.
I was very lonely then, mostly because I was alone. I had not
done anything about my lonliness, and that made me lonely.
So the dog woofed cutely, and sniffed my crotch. Then she barked. "Okay, okay,
let's go for a walk," I said to her. she smiled at me but said nothing.
I realized then that she was a mute, a dirty stinking
mute, and thus I had to kill her. Oh well. It was for the best.
I couldn't help but cry when we went to the vet and euthanized her. I said to the
doctor, "Please, doctor, can we have her cremated?" The doctor nodded. Then he
opened the basically grey cremation chamber, and
stuck her in. Then she was gone. I cried then, and
mourned, and held a wake and a funeral. The wake was open-casket, but since she was
gone, it didn't matter because the casket was empty. In lieu of her body, I buried a
cat, who clawed and clawed, but never saw the light of day again.