I stared down at the beast that looked like roadkill after a few days. Except his eyes were playful and if you ignored the dripping goo, his face was cute with a grin and a lolling tongue.
Carl lowered himself on his front paws, sticking his butt in the air, wagging his tail, and giving a few yips at me.
“Aw, he’s trying to play with you!” Anita said.
“I am not playing with the zombie dog,” I said as Carl bounded up the stairs and put his front paws on me. When I looked closer, I realized one of them was actually just bones.
“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” I tried to ignore the laughter from the entire coven.
“You’re going to have to get used to dead, gross things,” Branson said.
“You’re a witch,” Anita grinned.
I turned and moved into the house, looking back and getting everybody else in, and shutting the screen door in the zombie dog’s face.
But as I turned to go back into the house, I caught a glimpse of his big eyes looking up at me. He was crying to come in. He was a bit bruised and beaten, missing a little bit here and there. But it was clear he still had feelings. Weren’t we all a little more tender because of the wear and tear we’ve had?
There was no way I could resist him. Somehow, Carl, the Zombie Dog was a bigger better version of himself now that he had died and was brought back to life.
Maybe that was a little like me.
I opened the patio door. Carl gave three joyful small barks and ran inside the house.
Branson bent over and kissed my lips softly as he handed me a cup of Witches’ Brew Lavender tea. “I guess we’ve got ourselves a pet.”
“Don’t get too comfortable,” I said with a chuckle, kissing him back and holding his hand as we walked into the living room
“Oh, I’m not comfortable,” he said. “I’m not comfortable at all. Keeping the zombie dog is cute and all, but it won’t be so cute when all the bodies in the cemetery become zombies and start killing the town folk.”
My hand tugged at the pentacle around my neck. When the zombie apocalypse came, I only hoped we had the strength to stop it.
* * *