Digging Up The Past

Abby Kabat

Day 1: Digging Up The Past


It was the beginning of Fall and my Mom wanted me to go into the back yard to uproot the last of our garlic we planted a few months back. Filling up my paint chipped bucket I headed to the last row of garlic; as I was kneeling down I speared my trowel into the soil. My head swiveled up to look around me and over my shoulder as I heard a sudden metallic bang, though slightly muffled. Shrugging it off as I thought it was the neighbors kids playing with their toys on the other side of the fence I reached for my towel again.

As I was lifting it up it was resisting my pull, thinking it was a root I huffed in annoyance and shoved my other hand into the soil next to my garden shovel to help detangle it. By the tip of the shovel I brushed against something cold and I jerked my hands away. Looking again and seeing nothing move I chuckle to myself thinking I might have touched a pipe and go at it again. Once more I pulled, more careful this time as to not disturb the pipe and it gave way.

When it gave way, it gave way to much and along with my towel I pulled up a small cow bell… wait– a what.

Wide eyes peering at this silver and pristine bell, the only thing making it dirty was the muddy soil. Brushing away the dirt with a finger I notice a name engraved under a dog symbol: it was written in capital letters–  Cerberus.

Looking more into it, inside the bell was a picture.  An old picture of my back yard with a photo of a dog, actually a tiny white poodle sitting on its hind legs with said cowbell around its neck.


Day 2: From a Lazy Sunday to Having to Kill You


Dear Neighbor in Apt. 27,

       I’m guessing you don’t remember me, considering when you stumbled into my unlocked door and face planted on to the ground you reeked of alcohol and sweat. But you see, I didn’t mean for you to break your nose; I honest to god forgot to lock my door. I watched as you stood up and touched your nose bringing it up to your face to see your hand dripping with blood. You squealed and I panicked, and when I say I panicked I mean I tossed you back out of my apartment and apologized.

I was about to offer you a towel for your nose to help stop the bleeding but unfortunately you saw more than you had to, I saw the moment your eyes landed just over my shoulders and your eyes dilated in fear. Hey well at least it wasn’t your blood- well actually that could be considered worse depending on how you look at it. I guess I should give a little context for you since you only saw the end on my Sunday evening.

Every Friday I enjoy my time out at the community park with my German shepherd, I tend to make friends with other people who walk their dog. If our dogs hit it off I will offer a puppy-play date of sorts back at my apartment for the afternoon on Sundays. A few will decline, but the majority of them agree since this is a very friendly neighborhood. When inviting them in I tell them I have a spare room full of dog toys and beds for the dogs to play in while we get to know each other. The dogs go off and we have a lovely chat, enjoying some snacks and beverages I offer. Watching as they slump over a minute after they take a sip of their drink. Dragging them to the kitchen where I don’t have any carpet and begin striping them of their clothes, but leaving on their undergarments for modesty of course. I mark out the meatiest parts of their bodies with a thick sharpie and- well I guess you know what happened since you saw the end.

While I personally am a proud vegan I know dogs are carnivores and need meat since that’s what their bodies can digest. My dog sure enjoys her meal times, the stranger’s dog is dropped off anonymously at different dog shelters the next day; but not without a quick meal in the morning of course.

Say, why don’t you come over this Sunday, I know you have a new puppy; I saw them through your window while you were asleep on the couch last night.

-Your Neighbor from Apt.26