The day I died began as any other day.
In the wee hours of the morning, a hot wind blew over me. Birds chirping in the tree tickled my ears, dragging me from dream world.
Once my eyes opened, I couldn’t close them again. The sun peeked over the horizon, threatening the day ahead with unseasonal heat. Might as well get up and get the day started. A siesta during the sultry afternoon would be a great thing if I could get my work done early.
On the patio, I found my breakfast had already been set out. Good. I hate having to wait for a meal, especially with my stomach roaring like it did that morning. Having good help makes all the difference in the world.
With the fuss in my belly settled, I headed out to work. Really, I should have known better. I was distracted by how the day was warming up already. I shouldn’t have thought the yard across the street would have anything better. I’d hit the jackpot with the yard I was living in. Old man Smith always kept the feeders full. The extra walnuts and grapes on the patio were icing on the cake.
Hind sight is 20/20.
But sometimes a guy gets an itch. He thinks the grass is greener over there, if you know what I mean. So, that morning I followed my greed and stepped off the curb without paying attention. Never saw the trash truck rumbling down the road.
As my life drained onto the asphalt, my tail twitched. I heard Merv and Gloria.
“Bob? Is that you?”
“I always told him he needed to look both ways before crossing the street.”