Hunting, after the Apocolypse

When we got out of the shelter, after the bombs stopped fallin, we found things were bad, real bad. There were new critters running around. Some of the old critters had changed. This one got Bob an' three a our dogs afore we could end 'im. Took a full clip o .223, the big bastard. Don't let the fuzzy tail fool you, he's got nasty, pointy teef, more'n I do, as a matter o fact.