prompt "latitude", title "the infestation" in misc. flash fiction

  • March 24, 2020, 2:26 p.m.
  • |
  • Public

The buggies in my furs, they sometimes hurt but they’ve been on there so long I can’t help but feel like they’re a part of me. They make me itch sometimes but when Momma goes off to work, I know they’re there, however tiny, and they make me feel less lonely. They eat a little bit of my blood, I know, but in a weird way they make me feel needed. It’s kind of like I am their world.

Honestly, it wasn’t such a bother when there were only a few of them and they dug down just a little. Sometimes the sensation tickles and other times, it gave me an excuse to kick up my back legs and give myself a big old scratch. I love any excuse to give myself a scratch, I think almost any dog’s like that, even if the reason’s annoying. More than anything, I tried my best to give the buggies latitude because I know what it’s like to have no other place to go. My momma rescued me from the Dog Jail in the next town over myself, I have a sympathy for things just struggling to find their place and something to eat. I’ve been there. Had Momma not saved me, I’d still be.

But recently my Momma noticed that I haven’t had all my usual energy, so she took me to the animal doctor where I can bark at all the animals going to the doctor for getting so close to my Momma. She’s my Momma, they don’t get to share, and I must scare them off with my mighty barks. Anyway. The animal doctor tested me and said that my buggies have a sickness in them, and they’ve passed their sickness along to me. She said I’m not too sick right now but if it goes on for much longer, I could get a lot worse, I could even die, which doesn’t sound too fun at all.

So the animal doctor gave my Momma medicines to give to me, to drive out the disease the sad little buggies have given me and also kill the buggies off for good. My Momma and the animal doctor care a lot about me, they want me to be healthy, but they don’t have the sympathy for my buggies that I do. Humans are full of love, I’ve found, but they parcel out their love so strangely.

And so, I guess because the buggies are taking too much out of me, for Momma’s sake I’ll let her kill them off to save me. She’d be sad if I died, I wouldn’t want that.

Momma says to eat well and to not spit out my medicines, to drink up dishes of cool waters with her and just rest, the buggies will be gone for good in just a little while now. I feel sorry for them and despite everything I will miss them, but I will admit it’ll be wonderful when I no longer hurt.


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