Pascoe trotted through the streets, his claws clacking against the cracked asphalt. He found a bit of shade beneath a bus stop and laid down on his side, panting. Buzzards started to circle overhead and he watched them, his tongue lolling out onto the ground.
Without the people, the sand had started to swallow the town. It was deep in his fur, now. He had stopped trying to clean it out. He itched all over, but didn't bother scratching anymore. He slipped into sleep, hot and tired.
When he awoke, the buzzards had landed, cautiously hopping towards him. He jumped up and got one by the neck. The rest cried and cawed as they flew off. Buzzard wasn't as good as the gravy and meat he had grown accustomed to. But it was something to eat. And some part of him enjoyed using his teeth as they were intended.
The sun was behind the buildings now and he didn't feel as hot. He ate everything but the bones and feathers, blood sticky on his muzzle. The tag on his collar jingled as he got up to go out and look for water.
He sniffed at the air. Nothing new. The same people shut up inside their cars and houses. There were some cats fighting over something. But in his experience, cats didn't want to be his friend.
Pascoe went to his usual places. Everything was dry and dirty. The park had a pond, but it was all gone. It hadn't rained in a long, long time.
As the sun set, he went back to his house. Coyotes came into the town at night, and he didn't want to get close. They were hungry too. Pascoe squeezed through the flap in the backdoor. He paused and listened, hopeful, his tail high. It dipped low again as he was met with the usual quiet.
Nobody had moved since he was gone. He nudged their hands and ran them down along his back. There was still a bit of water in the bathtub. He licked and licked and got up what was left.
The sand had gotten inside. More and more every day, he thought. He curled up on the couch with his family and watched their doubles on the black TV screen. He was tired. So tired. His eyes slowly closed and he cried softly.
Maybe tomorrow would be different.
Comments