Shep! Shep, old dog! He comes running to meet me, long fur shining
amber in the sunshine. Barking. Shep, I haven't seen you in years. Good
old pooch. Come 'ere, Shep. Let me pet you.
The captain shrieks:
"Don't pet it! It looks like a carnivorous Martian worm. Man, the jaws
on that thing! Halloway, use your knife!"
Shep snarls and shows his teeth. Shep, what's wrong? That's no way to
greet me. Come on, Shep. Hey! I pull back my fingers as his swift jaws
snap. Shep circles me, swiftly. You haven't rabies, have you, Shep?
He darts in, snatches my ankle with strong, locking white teeth! Lord,
Shep, you're crazy! I can't let this go on. And you used to be such
a fine, beautiful dog. Remember all the hikes we took into the lazy
corn country, by the red barns and deep wells? Shep clenches tight my
ankle. I'll give him one more chance. Shep, _let go_! Where did this
long knife come from in my hand, like magic? Sorry to do this, Shep,
but--_there_!
Shep screams, thrashing, screams again. My arm pumps up and down, my
gloves are freckled with blood-flakes.
Don't scream, Shep. I _said_ I was sorry, didn't I?
"Get out there, you men, and bury that beast immediately."