‘A Bone to Pick’

—-

Sasha’s grizzled muzzle lolled out the window, a thin stream of drool marking the sedan’s trajectory.

The old boxer sniffed the air, growled, and whimpered. She nuzzled the Yorkie pup lying next to her. “Trix? TRIX? TRIXIE?!?”

Trixie opened an eye slowly, her third eyelid still apparent from slumber. “Wh-what? Wh-here are we?”

“In the car, stupid. You were half asleep when she put you in, and you snored the whole way so far.”

Stretching, Trixie licked a paw. “So?”

“So? So?? Don’t you hear them?”

“Hear what, Sash?”

“The howls of horror. She. Is. Taking. Us. To. The. Vets.”

“Say what now?”

“You heard me,” Sasha raised a graying brow.

Suddenly, Trixie was everywhere at once. Jumping on the seat. Dashing at the windows. Barking like a mad pup.

“Trix? What is it, girl?” Her human mom reached over to scritch her head. “Aww, you know you’re going to the vet’s, don’t you? Poor thing.”

Whimpering, Trixie clawed the window.

“Here we are, guys. Let me just get your leashes,” she said, opening the car door slightly.

That’s all it took. Sasha darted out with a speed belying her age. She looked left and right and realized she had nowhere else to go. Head down, she walked back to her mom.

“Goood girl,” the human crooned, patting her on the head.

With both dogs on leashes, she entered the vet's office.

Two fresh peanut butter flavored biscuits of their favorite biscuits awaited them at the front desk.

“I could get used to this, Sash. Maybe it won’t be so bad after all.”

A lone groan from the back echoed through the cement building.

They exchanged looks as their names were called.

Sasha murmured, “This is the end, my only friend.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s a rabies shot.”