Rabies
by Laurie Myers
Issue No. 166 ~ March, 2011
They reassured you, told you that you were overreacting. You laughed a normal laugh and agreed, but later, after your boyfriend had gone to bed, the laugh froze in your throat, choking you.
They reassured you, told you that you were overreacting. You laughed a normal laugh and agreed, but later, after your boyfriend had gone to bed, the laugh froze in your throat, choking you.
So I gave him the meat, and the moment I’d put it down and stepped away, he pulled up the corners of his snout to show me his yellow canines and snarled at me.
I felt their gaze blazing on my skin; bearing down on me; urging me to spend more time; asking me not to leave because leaving meant leaving them again to their silence; to the hushed voices that were haunting their minds and telling them what they already knew- This is not us.
I can't imagine how they felt -- shock, paralysis, disbelief. It was an ordinary day, a Thursday, nothing special, and then, all changed in a second.
I got a dog last week. My first dog ever, and this never should have happened. For one thing, I dislike dogs.
"I wasn't going to write anything but a friend of mine – a real writer, at least in terms of publication, with five novels to his credit – told me that I should, that I should take advantage of the opportunity to let people know more about me as I continue with my efforts to keep PIF going and making it even better."