Paranormal Sisters: Teaser Tuesdays (84) Baad Dog

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Teaser Tuesdays (84) Baad Dog

Teaser Tuesday is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of A Daily Rhythm (used to be Should Be Reading). Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

• Grab your current read

• Open to a random page
• Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
• BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
• Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!

My Teasers:

Some dogs are dangerous…

You can’t deny it. Everyone’s heard a story or two about the friendly pit bull, or the loveable Rottweiler who was the treasured family pet until the day he was playing with the kids in the yard and chewed little Liza’s fingers off.

But truth be told, those dogs— Rottweiler’s, Pit Bulls, Dobermans, aren’t born mean, they’re mean because they’ve been mistreated. A mistreated dog is nothing more than ticking time bombs just waiting for the right moment to go Cujo on an unsuspecting public lulled into a false sense of confidence by their giant gentleness.

But my, dog… my dog, the man thought. His dog was loved and cared for right from the start. His was a lap dog, cute and cuddly, and… perfect, which is why he was having the damndest time accepting the bitter truth— that his cute, cuddly, well treated dog was also a murderer.

So he lay there, his legs rendered useless, feeling as if they’d been set on fire like Christmas kindling. His world was spinning, spinning, spinning as if he’d been set down on a runaway merry-go-round. Through the pain and the spinning he heard the dog coming for him, coming to finish him off, her soft, doggie footsteps scratching gently toward him on the dust covered road.

Then she climbed up onto his body as he lay, eyes gazing up at the moon. She stood on his stomach, and teetered for a second before looking into his eyes.

Go get help, he thought. I need help. Of course, he knew better. She was the reason he was in this position in the first place. As the little dog began moving up his torso toward his chest, he thought of all the killer dogs he’d heard about or seen on the news over the years, and as his dog closed in for the kill, he wondered: since when did man’s best friend become his very own worst nightmare?

- 3%, Baad Dog by Sal Conte