Illusions of Death
“The scraggly pup refused to stay in the box lined with an old flannel shirt. He’d given up and let the dog sleep with him. He scratched the soft belly. The mutt gazed at him with adoring eyes. He’d gotten the dog under a warm shower last night and scrubbed gently. He hoped the vet wouldn’t find any little critters on him.
His cell buzzed. He answered it.
“This is Dr. Alpine’s office,” said a robotic female voice. “We received your message and have a cancellation at eight-thirty this morning. Would you like that appointment, Mr. Warner?”
Logan agreed and rolled out of bed. “Looks like you’ve got a date with destiny,” he told his scruffy new friend. “Let’s find you something to eat while I shower. Without you, this time, I might add.”
He rummaged through the refrigerator and came up with the tail end of some meat loaf. The dog devoured it and looked up expectantly.
“Hmm.
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