Dog Eat Dog World

Dog Eat Dog World
In a dog-eat-dog world it is hard to stay focused because of all the goings-on and happenings. One can get caught up in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Sam was no exception. Sam was a handsome man of about 32 and wore what he did every single day ever since he got the job at the local newspaper just a few years ago when he was 29 years old, Tan slacks, loafers, and a plain white tee shirt. No jacket, not usually. The weather was wonderful this time a year in Lewiston, Maine. On wetter and colder days he would be forced to wear one. But that was way behind him even though winter pretty much ended a month and a half ago. That’s how it happens in Maine, it is like a light switch from winter to hot.
Sam was walking on Pine street and peered over across the street to the left and saw the mailman. That’s when the dog bit him. It wasn’t a bite it was more like a nip. He looked down and noticed a small Pomeranian. “Errgh,” He said to no one in particular. Frustrated he kicked at the dog and finished his walk to the Sun Journal. Once there, he walked into the lobby, grabbed an elevator from the bank of them in the back, and climbed to the second floor. He then walked the short hallway to the room holding his desk along with a few others scattered in the office space.
Sam found that he could not concentrate and was unable to do his work. He was supposed to write a piece on the accident that occurred the day before on Lisbon Street near the hotels going toward Lisbon Road and the town of Lisbon. He stood up looked around and decided to grab his things and leave. His leg hurt and he was bleeding. He remembered what had just happened and wondered what he should do. He hurried out of the building the way he came and headed home, down Pine Street. When he got to his apartment, he realized that the dog was on his doorstep and he bent down to look for a collar or some way to tell who the dog belonged to.
That is when the most peculiar thing happened to him. The dog started to talk. I don’t mean in doggy language but full out English. English from England not American. He was amazed and started to panic that other people would hear the retched thing. He picked the dog up and led him into the apartment. Wondering what happened and if he was going crazy. He let the dog down and it went straight to the couch and sat straight staring at Sam.
Sam, already feeling heavy with the days events decided to plop down next to the dog. “What is your name you mangy dog,” Sam asked forgetting that he still did not have answers regarding to the dog talking.
“Who are you calling mangy, Mangy.”
Whoa, there it was again the dog was talking again. “What’s your name?”
“I already told you what it was, it is Mangy.”
“HaHa, you made a joke.” This is not possible, is it?
“What do you think,” Mangy began, “you are hearing things, you are beyond the age that Schizophrenia usually occurs.”
“You are right and I still don’t believe it.” Sam scratched his head and wondered how he was supposed to respond to the crazy notion of the whole thing. He was about to speak and realized a great idea to get rid of this ugly mutt. His anger began to rise as he remembered that he hated Pomeranians. The little fricking ankle-biting yippers.
The next day was uneventful and he did some shopping with the dog in tow. He hated that he had to bring the dog with him but didn’t trust it at the house. He found that Mangy was ruder in his English accent than he would be in that little annoying yipping that that type of small dog is famous for.
“You are carrying those groceries wrong; you need to carry them from the bottom so that the bag don’t rip.” Mangy said, licking Sam’s ankles in between words. “And why did you decide to get a paper bag when you knew that you were getting groceries?”
Sam was already frustrated because he brought the dog. “I wasn’t planning to get a bunch of canned dog food and if I had just gotten my usual I would__” He interrupted himself and became quite the rest of the way home. He had an idea how he was going to get rid of him.

He set the stuff he just bought for supper for both himself and Mangy. He sat down next to him on Mangy’s usual spot on the couch. Angrily, Sam asked the dog all kinds of questions about how he came to be and how he was able to speak. Sam realized that there were no answers and finally asked him how dog backwards spells God. The dog tried to answer.
“I think that it is because you men, believe that ‘dog is man’s best friend’, Mangy spun around once then plopped down on the cushion and stretched before settling down. “Then you switched the word God around I guess as if we are the closest thing to God other than man himself.
“Makes since.” Sam got up and walked toward the small kitchen. “Ok wait there I am going to get the oven on.” Sam was stewing about what he was going to do to get rid of the mangy dog. “Your supper is in the doggie dish I just bought. Come-n-get-it. As Mangy the mangy dog ran to his dish the young writer grabbed him and started to munch on dogmeat. Sam became the biggest News story that Lewiston, Maine has seen since that family put the kid in the oven and cooked the poor lad.