FIDO

Fido sauntered down the hallway. Occasionally he stopped in his meandering

journey around the house to sniff the air, dull hope perking his floppy ears up. He inhaled deeply and cringed at the stale aroma of death. He attempted to process exactly where the stench was coming from.

Fido peered into the guest bathroom. The fluorescent light shone down on the beige porcelain toilet and tub. The pedestal sink stood just inside the doorway off to the left. It too was a matching shade of beige. But another color was also splattered across its smooth surface…red.

Shaggy brown tufts of hair lifted with Fido's eyes as he surveyed the bathroom and its lone occupant. The body lay sprawled on the tiled floor directly beneath the sink, crimson pools puddled where its neck had been. Gore stained the front of the corpse's shirt.

A soft whimper escaped from Fido's lips and echoed down the dimly-lit hallway. He would miss his master. Pleasant memories drifted into his mind like a warm, summer breeze: the long walks through Halmich Park, the numerous chew bones and rubber toys, the comfortable nights snuggled up on the leather couch under the wool afghan his master's mother had knitted. He reveled in the thoughts, momentarily forgetting about the bloody remains of his owner stretched out on the cold bathroom floor.

The long walks through Halmich Park, the numerous chew bones and rubber toys, the comfortable nights snuggled up on the leather couch under the wool afghan his master's mother had knitted.

The thought of when the other humans had smashed through the front door of the house crept into his mind. There were three of them, maybe four, each sporting evil grins and brandishing a variety of weapons. They pushed their way into the house and immediately attacked his master, who had been in the bathroom at the time. Fido watched helplessly from his foam doggie bed as the intruders marched through the house grabbing anything of value, smashing anything they couldn't steal and sell.

And then they had left, leaving behind a ransacked house and an ownerless dog. Furniture was broken, walls were pockmarked with holes and scuffmarks, the floor was cracked and littered with debris. Even his owner's most prized possession (an original painting by Herbert James Draper which hung over the fireplace mantel) was not spared. The gold-leaf frame barely held the torn fragments of the canvas, a classic theme showing the shapely sirens of lore tempting Odysseus and his crew to a watery death.

Fido felt his stomach grumble. It had been so long since he'd last eaten and there weren't any scraps of food left anywhere in the home. The strange sensations he was feeling were uncomfortable, even a little painful, but he endured them, although he did feel as if he were growing, becoming stronger, more acute in his senses. He wondered if maybe the injured bird he'd eaten the previous day had

been infected with something. He did notice it was bristling with tiny bugs. Possibly some type of parasites?

Bloody foam dripped from Fido's mouth as he swung his hungry gaze back to his owner's lifeless body. The hallucinations that had plagued him for the last couple of days had him doubting the fact that his master was indeed dead. But deep down inside he knew he was.

Behind him, the immaculately clean house was peaceful, a quiet retreat from the noisy streets outside. His owner had always been a well-organized type of person. The painting by Herbert Draper hung over the fireplace just as it always had, Odysseus forever suffering from the wails of the evil sirens.

Was it another hallucination? Maybe. Maybe not.

With a heavy heart Fido crept reluctantly, but with vicious purpose, back into the bathroom to continue his grisly feast.