Release The Hounds

The mob surrounded the exterior fence, wielding an array of weaponry, everything from baseball bats and hockey sticks to handguns and automatic weapons. Policy that made a lot of sense when the ire was directed at the liberal elites now seemed short-sighted.

"Thomas, let's see what they think of our dogs."

"Very good, sir."

He'd imported a dozen trained attack dogs from Israel. Not enough to fend off a hundred armed individuals, but he found it hard to believe these peasants were prepared to shoot an animal.

The barks dissipated faster than he expected.

"They came prepared, sir. With steaks."

Happy Valentine’s Day

It had been six months since Emma’s dog Max passed away. She still felt his head on her lap, breathing softly as she pet his head. She missed their walks together and his playful barks when she’d throw him the ball. He’d catch it every time, the ball hanging from his mouth.

The picture on the end table had been a favorite. Max in her arms, licking her fingers, tail wagging, a smile on Emma’s face cuddling her friend.

The doorbell rang, distracting Emma.

“Surprise,” her boyfriend said and placed the puppy in her arms.

Emma’s valentine wish came true.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher