Short Stories With Tragic Endings #3

I recently lost my cat. As you've seen on this very blog, I had a slight obsession with her (I wouldn't go as far to say she was my child, but she wouldve been, had interspecies dating been allowed and had men been given the gift of birth).

So she got out, but the real story starts a day later. We did the whole search thing - flyers, flashlights, food by the door, etc, etc. So the next day, almost a full 24 hours after her disappearance I hear rumbling and shaking outside the door. I jump to my feet rip open the blinds (obviously forgetting if it WAS her she wouldve been scared shitless by the sudden movement and run away again) and look for her (with as much enthusiasm as Artie Lange rifling through cabinets looking for a Heroine Hoagie). It was not her, it was a dog.

Ironically (or maybe not, I'm not sure Alanis taught me wrong so many years ago, I'll never recover) the dog was one of the dogs that lived in the neighboring house (bridged by a fence, the same fence the cat had just run under the night before.) The dog ate all the food, drank all the water and then hung out on the porch with an air of "well if there is free food here, then you can expect to see me everyday" about him. I slumped back down on the couch, had a quick staring contest with the dog (and lost) and went on missing my cat.

Short story, tragic ending.

NOTE: I've decided that all these stories will not end in ridiculous ways from now on. They will be short stories with a SORT OF tragic ending (probably me crying like Halle Berry in Monster's Ball or me getting real angry like...Billy Bob Thornton in Monster's Ball). Nontheless I hope to squeeze out at least one joke per column. I bid you adieu.