Today when I arrived home from work, I found that our dog Rusty had once again escaped from the laundry room and made his way into the rest of the house. He had chewed up one of the water dishes, a wooden spoon, a few bath toys, and four plastic bags. The damage done wasn't anything major, but my hams were still a little steamed. Then, as I went to get him from under our bed (where he hides when he knows he is in trouble), I saw the grizzly murder scene.
In front of the bedroom doorway were the remains of our beloved little friend. Her life had been cut tragically short, and she was mercilessly ripped apart. I can even imagine her little screams of agony as Rusty rended her limbs from her body, and her final gurgled breath as her entrails became her extrails.
As I sit here looking once again upon Itchy's mangled corpse, I am reminded of just how fleeting our lives can be. We never know if we will be here twenty years from now, or if our dogs will eat us in our sleep. So grab that special someone, hold them close, tell them you love them, and make peace with God, because you could be a snack for someone tonight.
Farewell, sweet Itchy. Rest in peace. And also pieces.