Pocket Investigates the Origins of the Virus

I am getting more suspicious about this virus. Things are working out too well for us dogs.  The latest development is that the Shenzhen province in China has banned the hideous selling of dogs for food.  It is something that we have fought for years. Now, thanks to the virus, that dream has become a reality.

    Most of our parents are home for the vast majority of the time. The shelters are emptying because humans are in desperate need for companionship. People, desperate to get out of the house, are taking us for more walks.  Humans have noticed and are commenting about our good fortune in the time of misfortune. Now I am worried about a backlash. 

    At first, I thought that it was merely a coincidence, but there is just too much good happening for us.  But then I began to think: Maybe we dogs were being set up. Rumor is that the virus was begun by someone who ate a bat.  Was this the bat’s revenge against us? And why were the bats mad? I put on my Inspector Pocket hat and decided to investigate.

    Bats are just as disgusting.  They live in these disgusting caves along the river bank.  I walked in gingerly. I saw a thousand bats swoop at me. I almost peed myself.  I swung my paw in self-defense and hit one. “What’s the big idea?” he asked. 

    I asked him why they started the virus.  At first, he claimed ignorance, but then he admitted that the bats were paid off to do it.  They have never cared about people. When was the last time you heard of someone cuddling with a bat?  He said that they made a deal with rats, who agreed to bring fruit to the mortal bats in exchange for starting the virus.   He had no information about why rats wanted to infest humans with a deadly disease. I had to now go to a place even worse than a bat cave:  The rat hole.  

I traveled to Big City. I didn't like it there. Things moved too quickly.  I went down to the subway and found the rat hole. It smelled terrible. I begged a piece of pizza from a nice lady and then laid the slice outside the rat hole. When one of the rats came out, I put a box over him.  He was one angry rodent. I said he could go free if he told me why he paid off the bats to infect the humans with a terrible illness. He said it was the squirrels’ idea. Squirrels! I knew it. When I asked what the rats got out of the deal, he said, “just laughs.  We’re like that. That’s why they call us rats.”

I wanted to smack the rat but I had bigger fish to fry.  I found some squirrels in the park. I chased one and grabbed it by the tail.  I shook it until it told me why they created the virus. He said they did it to make humans mad at us, and then the tree rats would take our place as man’s best friend.  The squirrel told me they had overestimated human intelligence. People had yet to falsely deduce that we dogs had benefited so much from the illness that we must have been the ones to start it.

It was a wicked plan that only the squirrels could conceive of, but it was unsuccessful because humans know we would never think of such a scheme.  The squirrels are paying for their choice. Because of social distancing, no one is going to the park to feed them, and after the humans overcome the disease, no one will be slowing the car down to avoid the furry tailed rats on the road either.

Thirty days to slow the virus, then sixty miles an hour to kill the squirrels.  Sweet revenge will come one day.