I have a new dog named Charley.
I found him wandering the streets, looking slightly disoriented and frail. I took back to my basement apartment. For a week I have taken good care of him. Sometimes Charley is a very bad dog, always trying to runaway, making noise at night. I keep him in a cage as punishment and for his own protection. I have to keep him a secret, my Landlady doesn't allow pets.
The other day, the woman next door knocked on my door.
“I'm looking for my husband Charlie. He went out for cigarettes and is now missing. Have you seen him?”
I told her I hadn't seen him. I shut my door, looked at Charlie. He was whimpering,cowering in the corner of the cage, his naked body broken and bruised.
“She's not getting you back,” I told him.