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Rated: E · Other · Animal · #1514250
I've traveled a good forty miles since my escape from prison.
They call me Sam and I've been on the run for eight days now, no food, little sleep, and the nights have been cold and damp. My belly is hugging my backbone, my eyes are so red I'm afraid they may glow in the dark and give me away, and I'm quite certain my left leg is frozen from the knee down.

I'd still rather be on the run than in that ugly place they locked me up in. What a disgusting and horrible joint!

We got food whenever the jailer decided it was time, and even then - if you didn't jump in and fight and snarl and get your share of the cold wet slop that passed for grub - you went hungry. Too many times I passed my share of the disgusting slop over to a young mother and her five little ones.

The hardest part, I reckon, was watching old friends take that last stroll to the dreaded back room. We all knew what was going on, we're not as dumb as a lot of people think we are.

A few days before I broke out to freedom, I watched my old friend Rex stroll quietly down the path. When our eyes met, I had to look the other way because what I saw in old Rex's eyes wasn't fear, but resignation. He had finally given up all hope for life and was resigned to that last stroll.

Looking back on it, I almost envy old Jake in a way. I know the hell he's gone through - the hell we've all gone through - and I know for a fact that he's in a soft warm bed, with the finest food you can get, curled up next to his girlfriend Dolly; somewhere up yonder.

We then watched in horror as all five of Little Mother's kids were dragged screaming and pleading for mercy toward that ugly room of death. No pity was given.

The torture in that place was unimaginable. Most of the inmates that came in were infested with vermin, half of them were sick, some had diseases that spread to the healthy inmates, and still others bore ugly scars from physical abuse and cruelty.

I can't say all the jailers were bad, some of them honestly did care and tried their best to help us and treat us kindly. Problem was, there were very few of them and what they had to work with was might near to nothing.

Another hard time was on visiting day. Some of the inmates had relatives who came to see them and some of them even got out of jail on good behavior, but most of us had no one. Absolutely no one was interested in us, no one cared a darn about how we were treated, no one gave a hoot about the back room and the ugly things that happened there, and for the most part, they looked as if they were happy and relieved to see us locked up.

Well, I finally decided to do something about the horrible situation. I tricked one of the nice jailers into trusting me and letting me out for a spell, then I hauled my old carcass out of there as fast as my feet could hit the road. And, I can tell you right now; I’m not going back! I spent my time in hell and then some.

I reckon I've traveled a good thirty or forty miles since my bold escape but home is just around the corner. You didn't think I had a home, did ya? Well, I do and my friend Jimmy will take good care of me like he did in the old days as soon as I can find him!

Two weeks later Jimmy's mother found Old Sam curled up on top of Jimmy's grave. Jimmy had died several months earlier and; unable to take care of Jimmy's dog she had tearfully placed him in the county animal shelter.

He finally found his friend Jimmy; at least where Jimmy was buried. Rather than leave his great friend and master, Old Sam died happy waiting for Jimmy to come be with him.

There’s an old saying - if the price to enter heaven was trust and loyalty, there'd be a lot more dogs in heaven then people!
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