Gridlocked Guesthouse (Locked House Hauntings Book 1) (19 page)

I gently petted her, and she never stopped growling. There was a stick in the wound. I don't know if she ran into a tree and then bled all over, or if she started out injured and then got a stick in the wound. Either way, it was not good. I carefully pulled on the stick and she let out a snarling yelp. It didn't gush with blood, so hopefully, it hadn't hit anything that couldn't heal. I pressed my left knee against her head and my right one into her shoulder and I pulled with all my strength. Quick was better than slow when you had an angry animal in pain. She snarled, struggled and nearly bit me and the blood was quickly pouring. I pressed both my hands into the wound, slowing the flow, and she cried out. I counted to ten slowly, her body writhing under mine and I tried not to cry.

By the time I got to ten, she had stopped. No more growling, no more yelping. No wiggling or struggling. For a moment I thought she was dead. I lifted one hand, and the blood poured again, so I pressed hard and counted to thirty. Finally, at thirty seconds, the flow wasn't as dangerous. She wouldn't bleed out if she could hold still long enough for it to mend. That would be a challenge. I slowly took my right knee off her shoulder, still pinning her head with the other knee.
You gotta let 'em up slow or they'll bite.
That's what great-grandmother always said. Didn't matter what kind of animal, you let 'em up slow.

The wound was definitely a puncture from the stick, and it looked like she had been chewing on it, or caught the stick on something while she ran. It was a mess. I should clip off all the fur from around it and wrap it with something. Hell, I couldn't find our food box, it seemed unlikely I'd find the box of medical stuff.

I let up her head. She gazed at me with her big, doofy eyes and licked my hand. Back to her old self, it seemed. We slowly walked back to the house together. Thankfully, we made it back without her wound bursting and pouring open. I gave her a little bowl of water and she drank, then immediately fell asleep.

I never did examine the stick she had in her neck or I would have noticed it was carved to a sharp, barbed point.

I am currently living in a five story house infested with bats. They're removing my roof this week and then my whole home will be swarmed with the little flying monsters. They will spend at least a week trying to break in. I am writing books under duress, in my basement, with my chainsaw, surrounded by terrible rabies monsters.

Tell your friends.

Mixi J Applebottom

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