When I was a puppy, the caged me and others like me in a big cold cage of steel. They let in big, mean dogs with razor teeth and full of anger. The dogs ripped apart all the pups around me, but I somehow ended up with just some tears and scratches.

The human men lining the outside of the cage cheered or griped, passed green paper back and forth, and left me there, buried under the lifeless flesh of my brethren. After a couple days, I lost the battle against my hunger and ate the only thing left to me.

I feared I would die as a stench leaked from the food and it became fit only for the flies. The odor stayed with me my entire life. It burned my nose and made my eyes water. Inhaling it made my lungs clench. The smell of shit added an indignity to the deaths of the others that made me sickest of all.

That’s when the men in the blue uniforms and gold buttons came in. They found me and appeared glad for my existence. They called me Scrapper, Warrior, and Zombiemutt. One called me Patch because of the black markings around one of my eyes. That’s the name I chose to acknowledge.

I lived well after the happy couple adopted me. I ran free in expansive fields while they laughed and wrestled. In the winter, I curled up in front of a burning hearth while they watched television. When the woman came down with the sickness, I felt everything would turn out okay.

Mucus oozed out her nose and she coughed with a rumble in her chest. Her eyes and ears started bleeding after a time and the man grew concerned. He took her away from the house and returned each night more anxious than the last.

Then his nose started to run.

I am thankful he opened the door to go outside before his eyes bled and he left, too. I just wish that the whole world wasn’t empty of living humans.

The planet smells like that cage.