When dogs are the true mirrors of your deepest soul, you're okay. Loyal and loving in that all out vulnerable way they do is good for everyone.
The dogs kept us sane in those challenging times, they were our anchors to innocence and pure love freely given.
I always said the dogs were gods in fur, god knows they had a good life those masters of cuddle and joy.
The dogs were our family, the loved us and we loved them. What they gave us we could never repay in a hundred lifetimes. Those canines are pure souls, god given, a beauty that deserves cherishing.
As the sun sank lower toward the greying silhouettes of the woodland trees, the dogs moved wolfishly in a pack. Their brindled coats merged with the fading dappled shadows and they hunkered low to the ground. It had been three generations since they had become feral. The poodles and other long haired breeds just hadn't been able to survive without their regular visits to the groomers. The small dogs hadn't made it either, most likely they were picked off by the coyotes. Many starved or were rounded up by the city pound and shot. They had been turned out when a wild rumour circled the internet about canine flu, but the only thing viral was the propaganda. People had panicked and turned them out to fend for themselves. The canine flu turned out to be the most successful hoax of recent times, but the collective guilt of what we did to our "best friends" stops people believing it. Anyone who mentions its falseness is shunned and those who clamour for their extermination are embraced.
The dog was large with a brindled coat and an extravagant ruff of fur around it's neck and a long tail that curved like the hook of a coat hanger.
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