Straight after work, I hit the paper shoo and bought my own copy of the paper. None of the stories interested me apart from the one about the mugging in town. Sat in my car I read the story at least three times before deciding that it said nothing about me. Knowing the truth behind the story filled me with joy. At the same time, I wished to cut the story out and frame it showing everyone what I had done. This was something I could not do and it sent me into a very black and deep depression. Never will I keep any trophies of my actions that have any legal consequences. This might not but I will play things safe. Stupid risks get people caught or killed and I don't want either of those scenarios to play out. Thinking about it further I got out of my car and tossed the newspaper in a public bin. This was not even going to enter my house and end up in my rubbish.

Tonight I made a huge detour and went to the dog and cat sanctuary. After a long and boring discussion with a dumb old woman about wanting the oldest dog they had, I found my pet. He was a jack rustle named Oliver. They estimated that he was ten but could have been older or younger. The stupid old cunt tried and tried to talk me out of taking him due to his poor health and age. Saying I wanted a younger model basically. Well fuck you I know what I want and will get it one way or another. I visualised chopping this do-gooding old bitch up into tiny pieces and feeding him to the unwanted pets. Taking in a deep breath I swallow my rage and walk around the shop I need things for this creature. He might only be with me for a few days but they are going to be the best days of his life. I leave with a leed a bowl for food some food a ball a chew toy, not one that squeaks that would drive me nuts. I only bought a few tins of food and I figured that would be enough. This shit was expensive I don't think I will be doing this again. 

This dog is a huge pain in my ass and he has only been in my house ten fucking minutes. Backwords and forwards it is running jumping up at the window yapping with each jump.  Who knew this was going to be so hard. I intended to make this little fucks last few days the best he had ever had but at this rate, he is going to be lucky if he lasts an hour. I try and get him to come and sit on the sofa next to me. With my left hand, I pat the cushion next to me and call him in a soft voice.

"Oliver come on boy up you get. Come on you God awful little shit. Come on you hairy little rat."

Low and behold he jumped up and sat next to me. His brown eyes seemed to glow and glisten with water. I swear his eyes grew far too big for any animals head they were out of proportion. What was I supposed to do now? Come on brain don't fail me now you know the answer come on what do people do in this situation? 

I flashed back to being a kid. It was a bad day my grandad had just died of a stroke. I mean it wasn't a surprise he had salt on everything but it was a shock. My family were inside his house arguing over who was going to pay for his funeral. The silly old bastard was still warm and money was the problem like normal. I was sent outside and I didn't really want to do much so I sat on the step. This man had been what I thought was the best man in the world he always had time for me. While I sat on the step a dog came up to me and licked my face. Instinctively my arm went up and rubbed his head. His little stub of a tail started wagging and it jumped it's flat face looked so happy and I hugged it when the door opened. My dad came out and kicked this dog so hard im sure I heard a rib brake.

That memory was it he needs a stroke so I did. This little rat rolled on to his back and its tongue flopped out of his mouth. His belly got a rub. I think I made him happy. He can sleep on my bed it's only for a few days.