Bitter Blood (BBi)

Chapter 37: More Bad Than Good

Chapter 37
More Bad Than Good

When I was a young girl, our next door neighbor had a dog.

He was a gorgeous German Shepard, just a few years old, trained to defend his elderly owner's home but never to attack unless there was a serious threat at hand.

I use to climb over the fence that separated our two yards and Ace would come bounding up to me, tongue lolled out as he ran. He'd jump up to greet me and I'd ruffle his fur as he grinned a happy canine grin, eyes closed, tail wagging back and forth. We'd play; me tossing him a stick or a ball, and he'd chase me around the yard, weaving in and out of my short legs.

But one day, when I dropped from the top of the fence and landed on the otherside, I turned expecting to see the bundle of blurred colour that was Ace barreling towards me, but he wasn't there.

It took me a couple minutes to find him, and when I did he was curled up inside his kennel, head resting on his paws. I called to him, slapping my knees and whistling for him to come out. But he never even moved his gaze in my direction.

So I left and came again the next day and the next, hoping he'd be happy again, hoping he'd greet me at the fence like he always did. But he stayed in his kennel, didn't eat, didn't drink even when I put the bowls right down in front of him. I remember reaching my hand in, cooing Ace's name, searching for the soft feel of his pelt, and receiving in return a growl and the snap of his teeth as he lunged for my fingers. I pulled them back just in time.

The following day I peaked my head over the fence to see him pacing back and forth in the yard, head dipped close to the ground. I climbed over, excited that he was finally up and moving. But the moment I set foot on the grass his head picked up and his dark eyes found me. He snarled; a vicious, heart grabbing sound. He lunged and I screamed as he pinned me down , teeth snapping barely a few millimeters from my face.

The back door to Mr. Donaldson's house slid open and in a few short moments Ace was ripped away from me, hurled back across the yard. Mr. Donaldson grabbed me up and ran to the deck, jumping inside as Ace bolted towards us. He crashed into the glass just a second after Mr. Donaldson had slid it closed, spittle sticking to the surface as he barked furiously, nails scrabbling on the wood.

I watched, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. I had no idea what was wrong with him.

The next time I saw Mr. Donaldson, I was sitting in my own yard, scribbling streaks of colour across a drawing book. An explosion shook the air, loud enough to echo through the trees from the middle of the forest. The sound still ricocheted through my head when Mr. Donaldson finally came trumping out of the trees, rifle carried limply down by his side.

“Mr. Donaldson?”

His head lifted up to see me leaning over the top of his fence. I looked around him. He was alone.

“Where's Ace?” I'd asked him.

The sadness on Mr. Donaldson's face should have been enough for me to know.

“He's gone, Parker.” Mr. Donaldson had said, his face turned away from me. “Ace is gone.”

Back then I didn't understand why the dog had to die, why he of all couldn't be saved. But now looking at these wolves around me and their febrile way of moving, so much like Ace when he was infected with rabies, I can see why keeping him alive would have done more bad than good.

All three wolves stalk us in a slow circle, heads held low as they stare up at us with a maniac look in their wild eyes. The closest wolf amongst them opens his jaws, stretching and gnashing his teeth together, saliva stringing between them.