This is just a random drabble I wrote when I was bored out of my skull.
Looking back on my life, I know that this is unfair. I'm a good dog. I was a good dog. Snitter was a good dog too, but look what they did to him. The whitecoats did something to him. What I don't know. He can't describe it in rational words. Nothing he says is rational anymore.
I'm hungry. He's hungry. Our ribs show. We tried being wild, but we failed. I agree with Snitter. We did start too late. The white, cold stuff continues falling. It soaks my coat, making me shiver. A gust of wind cruely blows by. Snitter and I huddle together, as close as we can be.
If we die... No... When we die, at least it will be with dignity. We won't die by the hands of the whitecoats. I won't be in the wretched water. Snitter won't be under their knife. We'll be out in the wilderness. A fitting end...
- - -
The humans are after us. The Tod is dead. We're still hungry. As this strange contraption clatters noisily and speedily down its path, we huddle close, Snitter and I.
We don't have a plague. We knew that room was bad. We stayed away from it. But the humans think we are diseased. I wish we were. I'd give it to them. Dammed humans.
---
The contraption is dead. We run from the humans. The flies in Snitter's head have grown huge. They chase us. They herd us to the giant water. I cower in fear, but Snitter sees something.
"An island, Rowf. An island with only good men on it!"
He's excited, but he sees things that aren't there. Do I trust him this time? The humans are closing in as he begins swimming. With a growl, I lunge into the freezing water.
"Wait! Wait for me Snitter!" I howl.
"It's a wonderful place, Rowf..." Snitter mumbles. Does he even know what he's saying? I continue swimming. The humans have stopped chasing us. The water is cold. We keep swimming.
---
It has been ages. My legs hurt. The water flows into my nostrils and slides down into my lungs. I choke; more water flows in.
"We must be close to the island." I sputter. Snitter chokes as well. He's struggling, short legs churning the water desperately.
"If there really is one..." he mumbles. My heart breaks at his sorrow and mine too. We were good dogs. Gritting my teeth, I begin swimming a bit faster.
"There... Can't you see it? Our island!" I cried out, swimming into the gloom. Snitter follows. I pause long enough for him to catch up.
"Just stay with me..." I pleaded, looking into his tired eyes. "I'll get you there."
There is trust and relief in his gaze. He knows what I am talking about. Snitter never was stupid. He is grateful. We continue swimming.