Fear of mange ridden animals

It was a camping trip and I was with several friends hiking in an undisclosed location. Undisclosed to my consciousness that is. We were in the forest and they had a dog. This was a very large brown dog. It had the body of a German shepherd but bigger, standing as tall as my hip and had very light brown almost golden hair. We were all walking a trail together, dog on leash, passing a slow moving narrow stream. The dog stopped with ears perched. We stopped as well and stood silently hoping to hear whatever it had. It barked toward the woods then started to run, jerking free with the leash held by one of my friends. We tried to chase after but the dog disappeared into the woods. We searched late into the night with no success.

Fast forward about a week. I was in a house that I knew to be mine (but it isn't mine, it never is). There were several other people living in this same dwelling. Some adults, some children. Dilapidated and filthy from its overcrowded condition and lack of utilities it was apparent that we didn't have a desirable economic status. It was a slum. I had a copy of the local daily newspaper. I opened it to a full page color photograph of a man being mauled by a dog. A large brown mange ridden dog with enormous bloodshot eyes and a foaming mouth. I started to read the article which described this immense unidentified canine creature. It had been photographed in the act of killing this man. "Why would they print this photo?" I asked myself. A television was on behind me. A local news bulletin came on warning of an animal loose in the city that had reportedly killed a little girl and chased a woman with a baby. Both instances were in our neighborhood. The news anchor strongly advised the community to lock all doors and windows, while authorities hunted the animal. I was in a panic because I knew that somehow, some way and for some reason this dog was coming for us. Running from room to room I tried to lock all the doors and make sure everyone was in the house. I was shutting all the windows and then realized that there were holes in the walls. At the back of the house there was what appeared to have once been a pantry area with stained, dusty shelves and broken glass jars everywhere holding rotten food. On the floor and through the open back door were countless animals. Mostly dogs, cats and chickens. We lived with an out of control coop, all the pens destroyed. The whole place was overrun with strays. I was trying to save them all. Something unexplainable had happened to that dog. More crazy and illogical loose associations. But still connected somehow.

The Bastard