Creative Works Of The Mind

Stray Dogs

Stray Dogs

I step out of Pro Ink Inc. and into the street. I raise my arm to jail a taxi and one pulls up within seconds.

I've been pretty good at getting a taxi since I started working at Pro Ink Inc. Only the most prestigious and intelligent women work there although I can't imagine why. All we do all day is decide what colour of ink to produce that day and which ink to use in our ink magazine.

It's not a very hard job is you ask me, but it's a living, it pays the bills and doesn't work me hard either so life is good.

The taxi was only able to talk me most of the way so I thanked him and payed him. He smiled and drove away. I looked for the street name and immediately found it. I turned to the left and started walking.

I've been living in New York for the last three years and have gotten used to the traffic patterns and have learned to navigate my way around most of the city.

After a few blocks I get that odd feeling as though someone is following me. I stop and turn to look behind me. A crowd of people is heading my way, but not anyone that seems to be acknowledging me.

I turn back around and try to ignore the feeling, but after a few more blocks the feeling gets stronger and won't stop nagging at me. I turn back around and look again to see another crowd of people headed to my way, but no one from the crowd before.

Why am I getting this feeling of no one is following me? I turn back around and speed up my pace. I want to get home as fast as I can't to get rid of this feeling.

Finally I am one block away from my appartment and the feeling is so strong this time that it nearly swings me around on its own. I stare straight ahead at what used to be behind me, but I see nothing and no one but the traffic on the roads.

Hmmm. What is going on here? I run to my door and use my fob to open it. I look behind me once more before stepping inside and I feel my heart start to pound harder the more the door closes. The door in only an inch from being completely closed when I hear a whimper and I immediately yank the door back open.

I look around and see nothing, but the whimper comes again catching my attention this time. I look down to where I heard the sound and there at my feet is a small dog. He can't have been any bigger than a toaster.

"Oh my sweet," I coo at it. I bend down to pick it up and hold it in my arms. I look around to see if anyone is coming to claim the dog in my arms, but I see no one.

I hurry inside and the door slams behind us. Why would this dog have followed me home? I never fed any dogs or have them attention, yet this one just chose me instead of someone else. All along my walk home I kept feeling this sensation that someone was following me and they were, this little dog. Strange, very strange.