I wasn’t abducted by aliens. People who think that they have been abducted by aliens are clearly insane and or drunk.  I am neither.  Nor was I drunk or insane this morning.

First thing this morning The Warden picked me up and bundled me into a crate in the back of his truck.  I wasn’t alarmed, to begin with.  All of my brothers and sisters were there. We were bouncing about trying to get a good look out of the windows. I had a moment of trepidation when the lake was up close on the left side. I imagined that I could smell Humpback. I looked about but didn’t see any bags or alligators. We drove into a town.

I was thinking IHOP.  No, Waffle House. It would be a chance to chew on some steak and eggs. I might even get an opportunity to mow down some hash browns and finally figure out what scattered, smothered and covered meant.  As it was, the scattered, smothered and covered weren’t figurative.  Probed and stabbed were also thrown in.

We drove past a Waffle House.  And an IHOP.  Failure to stop at either, paramount in my mind. I jumped about in the crate.  Voicing my displeasure to The Warden. He didn’t even look back at me.

We pulled into a gray, official looking compound. You know the type.  No armed guards on obvious display, but cameras on poles at all points of the compass.  The kind of place that probably has walls constructed of explosives tied into a self-destruct circuit.  SUPER TOP SECRET is stenciled where ever you look, in invisible ink. We were lifted out of the back of the truck and taken in through the front door marked ‘Welcome’, of a low one story building.  One story above ground that is.

My god.  The stenches of death and wee and poo and more death were everywhere. Perhaps they weren’t obvious to a human nose, but to a super sleuth canine like me, they might as well have had the autopsy tables next to the phones, computers and simpering blondes at the reception desk.

You know that feeling you get on the back of your neck when something isn’t quite right in the world?  Yeah, well multiply that by 12 billion times and you have what I felt in that room.  Every hair on my body stood on end.  Most of my siblings, those with weaker constitutions than mine let a little pee dribble out at that smell.  As it turns out, it was merely a foreshadowing of what was to come.

One of the blondes on the desk asked the Warden “Who’s first?” Giggle bloody haha.

Self-preservation kicked in for the rest of the clan and the little bastards all buried their heads in the pee sloshing about in the bottom of the crate.  Not me.  Oh no.  I was at the front, near the door, looking for an escape route.  I searched the floor nearby for a dropped paper clip with which to pick the lock. I scanned about for a carelessly abandoned elastic band, a piece of paper and a poison-tipped pen with which to create a cunning origami poison pen paper thingy.  Anything to help me either escape or write my last words down for dear dumb Big Dude and the slightly neurotic Dysonator. There was nothing.  When the hand reached in and grabbed me, I fear I may have nipped at it a little and possibly allowed a little pee of my own to dribble down on the cowering mass of damp fur below.  Well, fuck ’em.  It is, after all, what Watsons do.

I was placed on a hard, cold metal table.  It was the centerpiece of the room.  A green room. Not military green, or even government green.  It was the green that paint tins might call Soviet Shamrock or High School Corridor Fresh Manure.  That kind of thing. Not a nice color and certainly not one I wanted to be the last color my eyes did see.  I snarled and struggled. I threw out invective the likes of which these people had never heard.  But I was outnumbered, several hundred to one, and I was pinned down.  My head was bent at a terrible angle as I bit into the gloved hand that held me.  I heard a wince from the voice above me which then added some invective of her own to the proceedings.  Next thing I knew, I was blind again.  I experienced a brief moment of panic and then my much-vaunted sense of smell kicked in. My eyes had not been gouged out, I had just been covered in a blanket.

I thought that a change in strategy might be the best way out of this mess.  I stilled my muscles and released my jaws from the hand.  I had just begun to ask to speak to the person in charge when a cold, large rod was inserted, with some violence, into my asshole. These people didn’t fuck about. I will be honest.  I thought it was all over at that point. These sick bastards meant to roger me to death with a, well I didn’t know what, we hadn’t been introduced!

When the color started to return to my paws, the rod was removed and a whole hive of bees was dropped onto my neck.  They must have been huge.  Their stingers went all the way into my flesh.  It hurt like a bastard, but I remained quiet.  I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

After what seemed like an eternity, the blanket was removed.  Firm hands still held me down, but they were slowly easing the pressure.  I remained poised, coiled, ready to launch into action at the first opportunity for freedom.  It wasn’t to be.  I felt the pressure let up but fingers curled underneath me and I was lifted to my feet.  I shook my head and tried to get a look at my ass.  There was a black thing in the way.  I grabbed it in my jaws and bit down hard.  Dear god.  The pain was legendary.  What had these people done to me?  During the anal probe, they must have gone in all the way to my brain and suppressed my memories of a tail.  I spat it out, expecting to see a bloody stump but there appeared to be no damage.  Perhaps they had removed my teeth and suppressed that memory too. What was happening?

Dear reader, I was in a dark place.  I didn’t know up from down.  The odors in the building were a constant assault on my nose and beat at the door of my sanity.  Death and green paint.  Death and green paint.  Death and green paint.  I shuddered and may have sobbed a little.  Death and green paint.  It was becoming a litany bouncing about in my skull.  Death and green PAIN! Holy fucking shit!  I had been murdered.  A straw, a drinking straw, made of metal, the same size as the ones in MacDonalds had been jabbed in between my shoulder blades!  Were they going to drink the blood from my heart?  WTF was going on.  I was in an episode of a David Lynch TV show. Echoing round my head was the litany, over and over.  Death and green Paint. Death and green paint. Death and green pai…

I don’t remember slipping into unconsciousness.  But it must have happened and my eyes must have closed.  My awakening was traumatic.  The human I had bitten, had one of those military style flashlights you see advertised all over the internet.  You know the kind?  40 million suns in a convenient camoed, plastic tube.  Just what every aspiring prepper needs to communicate with the afterlife.  My eyelid was pried open and the human checked the color of my intestine by shining the light in my eyes.

She turned it on and off a few times.  I yelled for all to hear, “I see the light!  I see the light!”.

She must have been a Buddhist.

There were no collective hallelujahs from the peanut gallery, either.  In fact, my jaw was cracked open and my teeth were examined.  Perhaps they hadn’t filed them down.  It can’t have been the inquisition. Could it?  I was so very lost.

A new set of hands picked me up.  These were kinder.  I was given a gentle body squeeze. A soft kiss landed on my head and a succulent piece of jerky appeared tantalizingly in front of my mouth.  I slowly extended my tongue and the hand pushed it into my mouth.  This must be the good cop.  That or it was poisoned.

I was carried back to the crate and dropped inside.  All of my pathetic brothers and sisters looked at me.

“They didn’t even ask me any questions,” I said.