9780008390662

the return of snickers
The man pulls me along with his lasso. I decide not to argue.
We enter a small room stacked with animal-filled metal cages, and I’m
assaulted by howls and hisses. The cold water on the floor sloshes as we
walk, just skimming my belly.
As bad as my smeller is, I instantly pick up on one distinctive odor.
It’s like the world’s worst perfume, the kind old ladies emit. The kind people
spray on their dogs to camouflage their lovely dog stink. The kind—
The kind Snickers wears.
I catch a glimpse of her in an upper cage. Bedraggled bow in her droopy hair.
“Snick baby, fancy meeting you here,” I say. “You look good behind bars.”
“Harebrain,” she replies.
“Hey,” calls a rabbit two cages down. “Watch your language.”
“Mack couldn’t deal with you?” I ask Snickers.
“He brought me here because he thought it would be safer.”
“Seems he may have been mistaken,” I say.
Carefully grabbing my scruff, Cowboy lifts me into an upper cage. He pulls
the lasso loose and shuts the barred door. I’m not happy. But it’s a relief to be
out of my noose.
“Oh, great, another one?” calls a woman wearing tall rubber boots. She