A Tribute To Furry Lives Sacrificed
I can’t stop sliding, even with all 18 toes digging into the cardboard. My heart is racing, at least 500 beats per minute.
I shriek as I drop onto the ground below. One eye watches as the cardboard box flies through the air and disappears, the other eye frantically scans my surroundings.
The same hand that snatched me from my brothers and sisters hurriedly retreats.
For a moment, I splay my paws out and freeze. It’s warm here, but comfortable. I hear a low, constant buzz above me. It blinds me to look towards the source of the sound.
I tilt my nose down and point my whiskers towards the ground. They bend around small chunks of wood, not much bigger than my paws. I’m standing on bark again, although it’s wetter than the shavings I’m used to.
I lean back on my haunches and shove my nose into the air, water vapor clinging to my whiskers. The earthy smell envelops me and my heart rate slows. There’s no one like me here, of that I’m sure. I pee a little, just in case.
I inch closer to the opening I came from, hearing nothing but the crunch of my cautious steps. And the buzzing, the endless buzzing. My whiskers bump into a wall in front of me. I stretch up and spread my paws on cold, hard glass. This is no longer a way out.
It’s too bright in here and my eyes burn. I hug the wall and crawl away from the light, letting my whiskers sweep the landscape in front of me.
Ahead, I see an opening in a log, and scamper over, stopping short to inspect the entry. The smell of petroleum fills my nostrils as my whiskers glide over hard plastic ridges. I hop inside and get comfortable.
I pick up a piece of bark between my fingers and relish in the pressure as I chomp down with my buck teeth. It’s sour. I toss the bark, piss a few drops, and skitter to the corner of the log farthest from the opening.
Suddenly, there is a booming CLICK. The buzzing stops and everything goes dark. I tuck my paws under my belly, loop my tail around my body, and wait for the darkness to settle around me.
After a long while, I uncurl myself and make my way to the log’s entryway. I can’t remember the last time I ate or drank anything, and my stomach is touching my back. I pause at the opening, head sticking out of the hole and whiskers sensing something just out of reach. My ears prick forward and I tune in to hear faint shuffling noises.
A forked wet flick taps the top of my nose.
“Squee- !” I’m pulled from the log as smooth, cool leather binds me and the air is squeezed out of my lungs.
The buzzing sound is back. It’s all around me, overwhelming this time. Blood rushes to my ears and they pop. Hot turds shoot out of me as my belly prepares to burst.
My left eye fills with blood. My right eye sees a fleeting glimpse of the hand again, pressed hard against the glass.
“Oh Slinky, you got him,” the hand coos before the world turns black.