Of Cars And Curs

Weren't nobody sorry 'bout what'd happened to Rex, 'cepting Charlie. He'd heard their gab...callin' ole Rex "fleabag," "mangy mongrel" an' the like, thinkin' Charlie were too dumb to understan' but he knew what were bein' said right 'nuff.

Didn' matter no how. Him an' Rex had bin buddies. That's all Charlie cared 'bout.

He wondered what life'd be like wit' Rex gone. Purty much like it had 'fore he'd found Rex, he reckoned. Lonely and miserable.

"Good riddance," they'd said, hauling ol' Rex's carcass off after he'd bin splattered halfway 'cross the highway by that lil' yella sports car. Shoot, the traffic hadn't even slowed down a mite when Charlie'd tried to drag the body ta the side of the road. He'd damn near bought it hisself.

No questions had bin asked. They didn't bother ta find out who'd done it.

"Good riddance," they'd said, not givin' a hoot...but Charlie gave a hoot. Yessir!

Charlie was prepared ta wait 'til that yella car came back. Not like he had much else ta do now Rex weren't aroun' no more. He'd chase that lil' car clear ta hell if he had ta.

He crouched in the ditch, recollectin' how they used ta share the po'boys dug outta the diner's dumpster. Him an' Rex had bin buddies alright, takin' care of each other an' all.

He rested his massive shaggy head on his front paws and kept his eyes on the road.

No sir, he shore didn't mind waitin'.

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