Death's Dog

Saw the dog of Death again today. He's hardly what you'd think: pointy hears, clean coat and wagging tail.

That's how they get you.

I didn't see Death this time, he was around the corner. I could just see his pale hands reading from the book.

I shrugged like I always do and waited, finished my work.

A couple times I went back and waved at the dog and his dopey grin, I knew to never approach.

But again, they never came.

Maybe it was the haircut, maybe it was because I was feeling optimistic.

But I fooled them again.