“Fuck,” the wolf hollered. He was holding a traffic ticket in his hand; a fine for 275 dollars because a dick cop needed to make quota. The poor black wolf always seemed to have worst of luck, he was a nice guy and didn’t deserve this treatment.
	I watched as he broke down over the counter, tears dampening the envelope the ticket came in. Standing up and walking over to him, I wrapped an arm across his shoulder in an attempt to cheer him up. “What’s it for Inazuma?” I asked inquisitively, trying to find out what the cop nailed him for.
	“A stop sign popped up out of nowhere, this damn city needs to trim its trees. I couldn’t even see the damn stop sign until 10 feet away.”
	“Have you tried to fight it, if you can prove it then you can fight it. Even if it’s a nightmare to do, it’ll save you money in the end hopefully.”
	“Hopefully?” He said, tears beginning to well in his eyes again; “Hopefully isn’t good enough for me. I’ll just pay it and deal with this now and HOPEFULLY it doesn’t fuck up my driving record.”
	I sighed knowing he was right and there was nothing he really could do about it. Fighting it would cost more money than he had and time that he was usually busy. H had been in a deep depression for months before this and it had seemed to be the final straw for him. He went to his room and closed the door with at gentle click. Feeling worried about him I pressed my ear to his door and heard music, just a quiet; “bottle to his head and pulled the trigger.” I knew the song and I knew this song was not a good song when you’re depressed as much as he is. Quietly I knocked on the door, “May I come in?” No response, a little harder I knocked on the door then getting more and more worried. Still no response. Panicking I shouldered the door, it gave a little but it as definitely barricaded on the other side. The next hit into the door was much harder and it hurt my shoulder but I could see the stripe of light between the frame and the door. One last very hard hit and I was through, just in time to see him pull the revolver’s trigger on the last chorus and see red splatter the wall above his bed.
	I ran over to his body and held him in my arms as the glimmer in his eyes faded to darkness. His blooded staining my blue paws red, the gore mixing into the short fur as I hummed and rocked his lifeless body in my arms. Denying what I just saw to myself, keeping my eyes shut and pretending the warm fluid coating my digits was just sweat and he was just asleep. Outside the house I could hear the sirens of police cars pulling in the driveway responding to the gunshot; I could hear the frame of the front door cracking as the officers busted their way in, and then feel their eyes locked on me as I rocked my friend’s, formerly alive, body in my hands. They pulled him from my arms and called for an EMT, knowing that it as too late but they needed a time of death.
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And then I woke up, Whiskey Lullaby on my player.