Dobson’s been re-discovering hunting in the forest of the urban jungle. It’s not all cold concrete and cars here and he’s now got some favorite spots from which to hunt his prey and destroy all that is beautiful. Like that butterfly whose wings you perforated the other day. It’s the cold, harsh law of nature at work: The butterfly is born through the miracle of metamorphosis and Dobson is right there to eat that miracle. Bon appetit!
That spot under the Peonies is perfect.
And the last thing you see before he rips through your soul is a blur of fur, eyes and claws.