Dogs and Murders

I, Keira West, was a part-time pet whisperer. To put it simply, I could understand what pets thought by observing their behavior, actions, and voices. Then, I would convey those thoughts to their owners.

It wasn't a popular profession, but as pets became more important in households, I still managed to earn a handsome sum as a part-time pet whisperer. It helped that my popularity had recently skyrocketed.

It had all started a few days ago when I'd stumbled upon someone trying to scam another on my way home from work. A young lady with a border collie had helped an old lady who'd fallen over to her feet, but the old lady had turned on her and claimed the dog had pounced on her, making her fall.

The old lady and her family tried to scam the young lady out of a compensation fee. In a moment of soft-heartedness and anger, I stepped forward to help. I told them my profession before explaining that the border collie's barks and behavior indicated its owner wasn't lying.

The spectators immediately clamored about me spouting nonsense, and the old lady and her family hurled insults at me. Fortunately, the police officers extracted the surveillance footage from a camera across the road and proved me right.

That day, I gained a fan in Sean Forrest, one of the policemen on patrol. At the same time, I went viral because someone had recorded the incident and shared it online. After all, being a pet whisperer was a profession that seemed mysterious and fake.

I made full use of the online community's interest in my job—I started livestreaming and using the attention to spread awareness about my job. It helped bring in more business, and I started raking it in.

Of course, part of the job was duking it out with members of the online community who insulted me and called me a liar.

One day, I was helping my fans check their pets for free when a man requested to join me in the live stream. When we connected, I saw a burly-looking man with tattoos of dragons and tigers on his arms.

"You're a pet whisperer, huh? Well, I think you're a big, fat liar. Why don't you take a look at my dog?" He dragged a Rottweiler to the camera.

I had to say it matched the man's temperament. The dog was huge, and its teeth were sharp. It had a long tongue, and there was drool hanging from its mouth. I could almost feel its hot breath coming at me through the screen.

"My dog has been clinging to my leg and sniffing it for the past few days. Why's that?" the man, who I now thought of as Mr. Tattoo, asked.

I scrutinized the dog through the camera. "Have you fed it something nice recently?"

"Of course. This dog is like my son. I feed it the best food every day."

Things grew weirder the longer I looked at the dog. Suddenly, a thought formed in my mind, and it scared me so much that I broke out in a cold sweat. "Uh… it's probably sniffing you to convey how much it likes you."

"You're telling me something I already know, aren't you? And you call yourself a pet whisperer? You're just a liar!" He disconnected the call.

I continued streaming for a while longer before hastily ending it. I checked Mr. Tattoo's profile and went through his details, trying to see if I could glean any information from there.

I was positive the Rottweiler had eaten something special—something that smelled similar to its owner.

Something like human bones.