Dog has been enjoying the midnight hours. They’re cooler and I stick him out doors. The problem with that, him being a dog and all, is dogs bark at game. Rabbits, Coons, Cats and possum. And even, occasionally, skunks.
Last night was skunks.
I arrived, sleep laden, just in time. Skunks do not retreat. They quick step toward trouble. They do.
There are times when dog is not heavy. Like a brother. Like . . . like last night.
Have you ever noticed, providing you read fiction, how the author does the suspense thingy.
They identify the protagonist. They identify the antagonist. And then they create a modicum of sympathy for the poor hapless, deluded, supporters of the antagonist. Then they agonize the protagonist by having them know they are going to kill innocents, but they do that for the greater good of man kind.
Flashing back and forth to agony to why the need, and emphising the hero;s aloneness. Him against the universe, only he understands the situation and his judgment is absolute.
“Course, mass kilings, the more the merrier. Even in theaters and schools.
From the reaches,