"Eeeeeeewwwww! What's that smell!"
The little boy ran to his puppy's playpen. Max, a four-week-old pit bull, was his birthday gift.
The playpen was now filled with puddles that reeked of copper and shit.
Max was going through hell. His insides burned, his head hurt. He could barely walk. All he could do was lay in excruciating pain, waiting for the next surge of vomit or diarrhea to come. Luckily, there was no more need to wait.
Death's sweet embrace came as a relief for the poor puppy. His suffering ended quickly, as his steel-grey eyes stared out into nothing.