Epitaph for Little Buddy

I didn't know that when I wrote the story about the little black dog on January 16th that I would never see him again. I called him Little Buddy. I don't really know what happened to him but I can guess. There's a sad and angry woman in my neighborhood who, some of us believe, gets rid of animals she considers a nuisance. If you hear her complain about a certain animal, that animal will disappear shortly thereafter (usually in the middle of the night when everyone's asleep). Now, I'm no rocket scientist, but, circumstantially-speaking, that looks pretty damn suspicious to me.

I miss Little Buddy and I don't know what she did to him (and the other cats and dogs that have vanished) but all I can hope is that there are guardian angels for animals.