Fetch- Murdered Dog

  Greg threw on his rain jacket, grabbed his backpack, and went out the door and down the steps. That’s where he came to a stop so abrupt, he lost his balance and had to grab the stair railing.

  His eyes widened. His pulse rate flew into overdrive, and his stomach clenched.

  This couldn’t be happening.
...

  And once again, he had to confront what he didn’t want to look at. This time, he made himself look, really look.

  The neighbor’s dog lay, dead, against the back wheel of Greg’s bike tire. Its throat torn apart, its belly gutted, intestines flopping onto the concrete. It was stiff, and its eyes were wide open, as if staring in fear, maybe for the first … and last … time of its life. Greg forced himself to examine the dog’s fatal wounds. Yeah. It’s just what his subconscious mind told him in his first glance. The dog hadn’t been killed with a knife or some other sharp object. It had been ferociously ripped by teeth and claws. It had been attacked by another animal.

  Greg gagged and swallowed down another dry heave. Breathing through his mouth, he opened the plastic bag and put it down over the dog. Once he had it covered, he slipped the bag under the animal and used the plastic to scoop up the entrails. When he had it all, he carried the bag to the bushes between his and his neighbor’s house and emptied it into the bushes. The dog fell with a sickening splat onto the ground.
...

  As much as he’d love to convince himself that’s what happened, Greg knew no coyote would kill a dog and then pose it next to Greg’s bike. Because the dog had clearly been posed. Although a little blood from the dog’s neck and intestines stained the concrete next to Greg’s tire, it wasn’t nearly enough blood for the savagery of the dog’s wounds. The dog must have been killed someplace else.

  No, coyotes had nothing to do with the dog’s death.

- Fazbear's Frights 2: Fetch