Dog Day of the Dead

I miss playing catch out at the Park. Frisbee, tennis ball, hell any stick would do. Sally and I would go to the Big Field and play there for hours. The Trees stood tall along the Field's edge and if the wind blew just right they sounded as if they were speaking to you. Occasionally a squirrel would venture from its tree sanctuary, out into the field, only to be chased by me back to its home. It's not like I ever intended to catch the little bastards, they were just fun to chase and let me tell you, we springer spaniels love the chase. Sure we had squirrels at home too but there wasn't as much running room and a lot of times the squirrels there would sit on top of the fence, just out of reach, and mock you, shake their little furry asses in your direction and even hit you with their nuts, little bastards. Park squirrels were more respectful. I would like to believe that they enjoyed being chased as much as I enjoyed chasing them. More than chasing the Park squirrels and the trees, and playing catch, I loved the smell of the grass.


The grass at the Park had such a magnificent fragrence to it, I would sometimes I would just lay in it and breath deep, let its wonderful aroma fill my nose as I watched Sally with her parents Tim and Maria enjoy a picnic in the sun. The grass smell was so perfect it would sometimes even put me to sleep where I would dream of chasing squirrels through the clouds. With each breath of grass air, I would float higher and higher in the sky until I was drifting in a sea of delicious aromatic bliss. Today the grass smells like shit.


Actually shit smells better than the Park grass does today and let me tell you I have smelled a lot of shit in so I would know. The smell of death has erased the beautiful essence of the grass that I use to enjoy so much. It's not just at the Park either. Nope I would say that there isn't a place in this whole damn city that didn't smell of death, or worse, but then again this is no surprise considering how many of the walking dead are, well walking about. They just spend their entire day and night walking, I always wondered where they thought they were going. Phil, he's the oldest of our group and one of the craftiest son of a bitches I have ever met, but then again it should come as no surprise considering he's a raccoon, anyway Phil thinks they are on the search for food. Lucky enough for us it appears they only care for the taste of human flesh. Oh my dog! I am sorry I forgot to introduce Phill and Crow and FiFi and "The Day" and... tell you what, if you would allow me the courtesy, I would like to back up my little tail to when it all started. It has become known among most of us as "The Day".