The Dog had a tendency to wander. We had tried all manner of things to keep him contained: electric fences, normal fences, standing beside him, tying him up, but nothing worked. In life, this was increasingly problematic and frustrating, but in death it was a little more complicated.
The Dog had been let out for dinner. The theory was that enough people were present that they would be able to stop any bid for freedom that he made. In actuality, people at the wake were barely aware of each other, let alone The Dog.
He pressed his nose into the grass, sniffing for his dinner. I attempted to point out the cube hiding in the grass and ended up slipping into him. It was an instant barrage of information against my senses. Smells, sights, sounds. Everything was so exciting, but right now, only one thing mattered.
We snuffled around various feet, inhaling and munching on scraps while we polished off our remaining cubes. It was as we were doing our third round that we heard it. An ominous, terrifying bark that rippled through our very core, accompanied by the most heavenly smell. It was not a particularly difficult choice. The smell led far away from the terrifying noise and surely the humans would be glad once we found the source of it?
Bunching our muscles up, we sprinted after the smell barking happily and ignoring several shouts. We ran with careless abandon, following only our nose. A terrifying screech and horrible burning brought us to an abrupt halt. I was wrenched from the dog’s body and found myself staring down at The Dog in a standoff with a very large red Jeep.