The End

The End, a short story 2013

A dog jiggled softly in the moonlight. Then it sat down. As it sat down a definite creak could be heard and the dog sighed. The wind came and picked up the leaves and hurled them all about. Still the dog just sat, it's long ears blowing back majestically in the wind. The dog was mostly black but had an intriguing white streak on it's head that was not unlike a skunk's. It's muzzle was mostly white and it's body starting to take on a more pudgy form. The dog was old too, its neck saggy from countless bouts with poisonous snakes that it had been victorious over, even though it got wounded. It's foggy eyes stared into the night sky thoughtfully. The dog's name was Nell, and she was 15 years old. In those 15 years Nell had killed countless things, fought countless dogs, had pups, and then had pups again. Now though, the pups were grown. Still were her pups and always would be, but now things were different. It was time for her to go. Getting up, she sniffed the air and peered at the forest, deciding which way to go. She took one last look at the house and then began trotting. She was a well loved dog, that she knew, the favorite you might even say. She knew the pups would miss her. But they were big and could take care of themselves now. The white tip of the dog's tail seemed to wave good-bye before it disappeared into the forest.