When my phone died,
I thought I’d also die in those woods.
But then I passed the long-abandoned cottage.
Something brushed against my leg;
I was shocked to see a beagle
with the markings of a German shepherd
and corgi legs.
I hurried behind this plump, wagging thing.
When we got to the clearing,
I gratefully pet my little hero.
I spun her decaying collar around
to find who to return her to:
Midas.
Beloved dog.
1920.
I gasped, fell over.
When I got back up,
she was gone.
Only the collar remained.
