The Devil in the Desert: A ‘First World’ Survivor’s Journal

The story you are about to read is true. It takes place in Carefree, Arizona in a gated-community on a golf course. Only the chronology of events has been modified. Reader discretion is advised. 

Heatwave Apocalypse-Day 1
Today The Husband boarded one of the last planes out of here before the mercury peaked at 120. The National Weather Service predicts we will see record setting temperatures this week and we are to stay indoors. The dog will go crazy without his exercise. We call him Devil Dog when he goes crazy. So now it’s just me and Devil, abandoned.  We have six days of food supply but only three months of alcohol. I feel hopeless. The Husband is no Jack but then, too, I’m no Rose.

Heatwave Apocalypse-Day 2
Devil and I are stuck inside a dark house with the curtains drawn. I muster the nerve to crack open the curtains and stare at the tarantula web being made by our one and only companion whom I’ve artfully named, Spidey. I advise Devil that I have to leave him for awhile to go take an indoor golf lesson. “These are hard times and we have to make hard choices”, I instruct him, as I mark our wall with a line indicating Day 2. He looks at me with his desperate amber eyes, knowing I will probably stop by the casino where it’s 68 degrees inside and I may or may not make it back in time to sneak him into the community pool. I fill his water dish then turn to him, “Be strong, Devil”, I choke. Then I look away from his steely gaze and slink away.

Heatwave Apocalypse-Day 2, Evening
I don’t want to be too graphic so I will just say that the golf lesson was hard. The instructor changed my entire grip. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Devil didn’t get to go to the pool so he tore up some toilet paper and peed on the rug to spite me. I’m losing it already. I want to know who, no, WHAT COWARD uttered Beetlejuice three times and caused all of this to befall us.

Heatwave Apocalypse-Day 3
Devil and I walked at dawn this morning before the asphalt could melt his feet. We ran into his spoilt friend, Emma, who claims she, too, is a rescue dog but she has a swimming pool in her backyard and she has good manners so we doubt her story. We hint strongly that we’d like to come over for a swim but Devil is a pariah in our community and no offer of a play date is extended. He has earned his reputation of Town Bully because he is a tennis ball junkie and he will do anything for a fix, including stealing other dogs’ tennis balls. Devil watches Emma head towards her home and he sulks. I console him by telling him that Emma can’t even swim without a life jacket and, even though he breaks into the community pool like a common thug, at least he is an excellent swimmer. Home from our walk, we collapse on the couch. We are as thick as thieves, Devil and I. I leave him only to go get Botox injections. Survival is hard.

 

to be continued…