The Thing Hanging from the Dog’s Neck
When I came home, the living room lights were off.
I placed the grocery bags in my hand on the dining table.
The trip to the supermarket had taken longer than I expected.
The checkout line was long, and because it was raining, even walking to the parking lot took time.
It was a little past 10 at night.
The house was quiet, as usual.
But there was one strange thing.
The dog that always came running to the door was nowhere to be seen.
“Duke?”
I called his name as I took off my shoes.
Instead of an answer, a strange sound came from inside.
Ghk.
A short, choking sound.
I left the grocery bags where they were and went into the living room.
Duke was lying on the floor beside the sofa.
He was a Doberman.
My father had brought him to me because he was worried about his daughter living alone.
At first, his size felt overwhelming.
Black fur and a lean body.
He was the kind of dog that made strangers step back when they saw him.
But in reality, he was easily frightened.
Even thunder sent him under the dining table.
He ran away from the sound of the vacuum cleaner.
When I came home late, he would wag his tail so hard he almost slipped.
That dog was lying on the floor, unable to breathe properly.
“Duke?”
I dropped to my