This rabid dog consumed by an insatiable appetite is fat.  This old growling, foaming beast is dying.  In painful death throes, he holds with conviction the world he has created.  The gurgled mumblings of incoherencies have become utterly cruel.  To let such a creature continue to live is sadistic, but is it wrong to enjoy this Black Death?  It has been said, ‘every dog has his day,’ and I can assuredly say on my mother’s grave, this old pup has seen its last.