The Truth Of The Matter

Tommy, Excluded

Dogs.

What were dogs good for? Nothing, that's what. That's why so many of them were in shelters-- too many of them to be good, too little to be put to good use.

Well. Apparently, they were good for business.

And their corpses were good for soap.

None of them were good dogs at the animal shelter. The man had told them that. Dogs weren't good for anything but soap, the man had told them. He smelled like soap. His smell tickled Poppy's nose.

She didn't trust him.

The shelter woman's voice was muffled as the man tried to reach in and pick her up, out of her kennel. She danced away from his grasp, snapping at his fingers. "She's a bit wild today, I don't know why," the woman said, breathless with impatience. 

Poppy whined, pressing her back to the plastic kennel. The man in front of her chuckled. "I'd be a bit wild too." He urged her forward, but she cowered back, ears pressed against her head and curly tail tucked between her shaking legs.

"How many dogs will you need?" the woman asked.

"A few dozen today, maybe more tomorrow."

Poppy didn't understand what they were saying. She wanted to go home-- the shelter wasn't home. Home was maple syrup snuck under the table and the woman that smelled like coffee and lemons and the man who always gave her pats on the head. She wanted to go home.

She wasn't home.

She yipped and bared her fangs as the man seized her around her middle, pulling her forcefully out of the kennel. He flipped her over, his sud-smelling hands tickling her stomach. She clawed hopelessly at his hands, snapping her teeth at him.

"Now now Pops," the woman chided. "Be a good girl."

"She'll be good," the man hummed, still tweaking her nose and paws. "She'll work great. How much?"

Poppy tried to wriggle out of his grasp and managed to squirm into a position where she wasn't belly-up. Her paws flailed desperately in the air, but she couldn't do anything, and the man just laughed.

The woman scoffed. "Know what? You can take as many as you like for the price of one. We have way too many here."

When the man squeezed Poppy even tighter, she just whimpered. "Thanks. They'll work finely."

---

Poppy didn't know what was going on, but she knew that all the others kept disappearing around her. She knew she was in a big room full of big wooden boxes that towered over her, her entire body shaking as she cowered behind them.

The great big bulldog was gone first, and then the shaggy tan one, and then the one with the curly hair that couldn't even stop barking to drink some of the water.

And when she saw that she was the only one left, she knew it was her turn. For what? Where were they going?

She whined again as the man picked her up, bringing her down into a place where everything stank. She tried to cower away, but he pushed her forward onto a shiny, metal table. A red cloth was off to the side, crumpled and smelling salty.

"Last one," the man behind her said.

Poppy shook all over, until her legs caved in and she flattened herself to the ground, held in place by the man's soapy hands. "Small one."