The One and Only Bob: List 4

I told him I was scrounging for food.

Every day I went looking for Boss. Up and down that same barren stretch of highway.

Rains pooled outside the front door, despite a pile of sodden sandbags.

Bedraggled bow in her droopy hair.

“Tick-tock, folks,” says an older, ruddy-faced officer.

Her left ear has a big notch in it.

That would make me an uncle. A dog uncle, on top of being an honorary elephant uncle.

“Anyway,” Boss says, “mostly they’re dead, I’d guess. You never know, though. Maybe a few got rescued.” She’s so matter-of-fact. So resigned.

“This last litter, well, I thought I was onto something. Found this little car, you know those ones that look like a big ol’ bug? Abandoned. Right down by the creek, near that bridge. Easy access through a hole in the floorboard. Blanket in the back seat.” She pauses. “All the amenities.”

Below us, the water’s slowly rising, filling the empty lower cages. We watch the humans rush back and forth, carrying buckets, as if they can stem the tide.

I stare at my sister and try to imagine all the pain she’s endured.

Is it really that I’m more resilient? That I’ve made my own luck?

“Look,” says the officer, “you need to evacuate now. It’s mandatory.”

“Look, I’ll borrow my brother’s bass boat. We’ll come right back. Hopefully the water won’t get much higher than this.”
“Okay, then.” Boots gives a grim nod. “Stay calm, friends.”

“I had a dog biscuit this morning bigger than you,” says Gray Muzzle.

“No!” A sharp voice rises above the din.

I stifle a sob.

Rain gushes through the hole in torrents.

She’s suppressing a smile.

We go back and forth like that, arguing, bantering, trying not to hear the terror of our cagemates, and I think maybe I’m starting to hallucinate a little.