An Unexpected Catch

Whatever I had hooked was big, I thought.  I pulled back not too hard on the line, I was using a light rig as I didn't expect to catch anything large, heck, I didn't expect to catch anything.  So when my rod bent and didn't move, of course I thought I had snagged one of the wharf pilings.  I slowly pulled on it so that I didn't break the line, and to my surprise I found I could reel in the line some.  A fish that heavy should be fighting, lord knows what I had caught.  I dropped the rod and started pulling the line slowly, and soon it was smoothly coming my way.  Then I saw what I had hooked and was as sick as I have ever been.   
The body of a fully clothed woman was bobbing in the shallow waves,  my hook had caught in her dress.  I know nothing of pathology, but she  had been in the water for some time.  The crabs had been at her eyes and  I looked no more but called the cops, thank goodness I had phone  service.  I left my rod leaning against the handrail, looped the line  around a post, and took my tackle box to the truck while I waited for the police.  I didn't have to wait long, this is a small town without much crime so the authorities were there in a hot minute.  In the war I saw many horrible sights but one doesn't expect that in a pleasant resort village.  A van from the coroner's office got there first, I pointed out to the end of the pier.  No words were exchanged, I guess  they didn't expect a five foot seven rabbit to greet them.  I mean, who  does?  The cops got there just after that and started taking my  statement.  Because the cops were all veterans and drafted into the job they knew why I am what I am, they knew about the Enhanced Infantry  program and what happened to it.  They were all briefed about me in any case when the government resettled me here.  No, I don't know her, I don't know any women except those I meet in stores or nod to as they  walk past my house.  Yes, I fish here often, I never catch anything but the view is fantastic and I like the way the steady onshore wind ruffles my fur.  Then the county sheriff and his goons showed up, as an elected official who had led the opposition about me moving into town he was brusque and nasty to me, an act that would play well on camera.  No, I have no plans to go anywhere, call  me anytime.  I made a point of not calling him sir, although I do that to policemen to honor the uniform and their war service.  After some  time the body was brought to the van, I only got a whiff of it when it  was carried between me and the water and was sick all over again.  There  were reporters there now and at least one photographer, I glared at the  camera when he fired his flash just a couple of feet from my face.  There was a film crew as well. Great.  The entire town had feelings about me living here, I wasn't exactly welcome.  Many people were resentful about the house I had been  given, it was felt that an animal was being raised above humans.  That I  had nothing to do with where I lived mattered nothing.  That I was no more an animal than any of them meant nothing, all they saw was a giant rabbit and that was that.  It was evening before I could leave and went I went back onto the pier to get my rod it was gone, not that I cared.  I drove home, checked the mailbox and went inside to feed my  kitties.  Meemers and Precious were delighted that I had, finally, gotten around to my God Given responsibilities of waiting on them hand and foot and was actually doing my job, for once.
I  wasn't hungry so I turned on the television.  I poured out a glass of  wine and watched myself on one of the local stations, I made up my mind  to quit wearing rags went I went out, even for fishing.  Since The  Transition I had only needed clothes for combat, so usually shorts did it for me.  Oh, and a hat that forces my ears down over my  shoulders, from a distance I don't attract quite that much attention although the tail is a dead giveaway that something ain't right.  I hadn't been wearing a hat that day as the sun was not too hot and the breeze was lovely.  Because I tend to be hyper aware of my situation at any given time I wasn't astonished when a brick smashed through the front window.  GO HOME was painted on it, and I started laughing.  I am home, pendejo.  I swept up the glass and taped my medal citation up over the broken pane, in the morning I would throw it all away.  I fell asleep on the couch and dreamed of horrible things in the water.   When I woke it was just before dawn and my cats immediately jumped on me and demanded breakfast.  I dislike showering but I felt unclean so a few minutes of hot water made me glow.  Water mats my fur and I look  like a drowned, well, rabbit for an hour but it does help me feel better inside.  I made coffee and fed the cats, then took my cup outside and  sat at the table on the back porch.  There was no doubt in my mind that I had just seen a murder victim and I have never seen a dead woman  before.  I drank coffee and smoked.
That's all there is to this.   The victim was a middle-aged lady who owned a restaurant in the next  town over.  It turned out her estranged husband killed her and dumped  her body into the Gulf.  One wonders if he had ever read or watched  anything about disappearing dead people.  He didn't even weight her down  with an engine block or what have you.  It seems that he had been  stealing from her for awhile and had a large gambling habit as well.  I  don't think it was premeditated but trying to hide a dead person is,  always.  I think he got 25 to life but I ain't sure, I didn't follow the  trial and just thinking about the whole thing made me sick.  I watch  television and pet my cats and wonder when my turn will come.  As a  witness to mass murder carried out by our government it was just a  matter of time when I'd be forgotten and could be dealt with on the QT.   Whoever carried it out would not forget about weighting down the body,  should they go that route.  I really expect just to be shot with a  silenced pistol, I mean why try to hide a dead man?  And I am a  man, I just don't look like it.  I started to call my fellow survivor Paulie but he didn't like using phones, an old prejudice of his.  I sure wished I had someone to talk to and not for the first time, neither.   It's the waiting that gets to me, and what will happen to MeeMee and  Precious?  They hadn't done anything. 

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