The Pedestal Magazine rejected my post-apocalyptic dog story today. They took twice as long as usual, but same result. Don’t they know the shelters are full? These poor pets are likely to be put down after this. Such a tragedy.
On a related note, our once-feral cat has decided to accept us into her pride. She now expects belly rubs when we pass her in the hall.
Yin and yang of life, I guess. Dog put down, cat belly up. What will tomorrow bring?
They rejected my attempt at bizarro fiction, “Gold Crowns” — no post-apocalyptic dogs, but plenty of legless deaf-mutes in a 1970’s America dominated by Communist-Russia. Guess it wasn’t bizarre enough…
We just aren’t bizarre enough, I guess. It’ll be interesting to see what they actually selected. Mine was about post-apocalyptic dogs cooking women around a raging bonfire. Yours sounds even stranger.