He is running and nobody is going to stop him. Not the pathetic ribbon tied around his neck. Not the leash dragging behind him. And certainly not the woman screaming from somewhere in the distance. Not when he can smell the blood pumping through the Schnauzer up ahead. Not when he is this hungry. He runs faster, his mouth open, already dripping in anticipation of the death bite. Ten feet. Eight feet. Five feet. Two feet.
Wait? What did she say? Did she say “treat”?
He turns around. Prays that it will be bacon-flavored. The seafood ones upset his stomach.
***
Title by: Dan Goodwin
Story by: Jenny
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Death averted by a doggie treat. Adorable.