Dogs Stomach Rumbling Novels & Stories

She pouted just a little when he stomped it on the deck, then threw it over the balcony. “I, I was just, I,” she stumbled over her words, completely stunned at the gorgeous man glowering over her. “Well,” he tapped his foot impatiently, as if he were dealing with a child. “It helps my nerves,” she finally stuttered. “And what is that?” Drago gestured to her dog, who was still snoring away, unfettered by the handsome doctor’s presence. “Oh, that’s Thor, my mastiff,” “Mastiffs are good guard dogs,from the time of the Romans,” Drago said thoughtfully.

Then the dog gradually stood up, walked towards the living room window, and stared outside. Talia looked up from where she was. “So…” she pointed at the dog. “Is that supposed to be normal?” “Not really,” I stared at her then back at the dog. The dog let out a low growl. It was low and deep, the kind I had never heard from him before and it made the hair on my hand stand alert. My heartbeat slowed but it wasn't from calmness, but from instict—my wolf's instincts. That same instinct that recognized danger before logic could.

A dog barks in the distance. My hackles stand on end as I crouch lower in the bushes. Relax, it's too far away. It's focused on something other than you. My nerves are on alert. Between creeping in the dark and the fact I'm about to face off with my enemy, my heart hammers at my rib cage like a piston in overdrive.

She rolled her eyes, but her lids were already drooping again. I stood up and grabbed the towel from the foot of the bed. “Your dogs are probably starving and sitting in filth by now. Let me go clean up.” The stink of the kennel hit like a wall. I gagged, then pressed my mouth shut and pushed the sliding door open. The dogs barked but calmed once they saw the food bowls in my hand. I fed them. One of the smaller dogs had watery eyes and sluggish limbs, and I spotted a greenish patch of vomit near its bed.

Behind me, Dog lets out a deep groan. For a moment, I think he's spilled his semen, but when the smooth friction of his fist and shaft continues, I know that's not the case. Then I realize what is causing him to make these noises. My perfume. My omega perfume.

Mia's POV "Hold still, you big baby." I ran the brush through Gas's fur as he wiggled happily on the living room floor. "How are you this excited about grooming?" He just wagged his tail harder, rolling onto his back for belly rubs. Lately, he'd developed a new habit – pressing his head against my growing bump whenever possible. The vet said dogs could sometimes hear baby heartbeats before humans could feel them. "You're going to be the best big brother," I told him softly. He responded by army-crawling closer until his ears were pressed firmly against my stomach.

When he felt his heartbeat settle to a more or less normal rhythm, he opened the door quickly and stuck his head out, prepared to duck back in and slam the door if the dog pounced. He immediately saw he had nothing to worry about. The Doberman lay on its side halfway down the hallway, its muzzle leaking a frothy white foam as well as blood. It looked like milk and tomato juice mixed together. A trail of bloody stool streaked the tiles, weaving and twisting as if the dog had run around in circles while excreting, apparently having lost the ability to control its bowels. Part of Patrick felt guilty. Other than the occasional insect, he’d never caused serious harm to another living creature in

snapped Cassie, "I like 'em! They are so cute, especially puppies and you just wanna hug them so tight or let them play with a squeaky toy..." "Haha," Henry interrupted, "fun-fact! Did you know that dogs play with squeaky toys just because that noise produced by those toys sounds the same as the sound produced by their dying prey?" "Why do you always have to ruin a perfectly good moment?" Carmen narrowed her eyes at him. "Doesn't sound so cute now, does it?" "Mr. Gordon, what do you think you're doing?" called the history teacher after spotting Ben drawing a pair of devil horns on an illustration of a dog's head.

Fiona Forger didn't think much about it and finished eating before going downstairs, passing by the old master's place. The veterinarian had also arrived to examine Xu, their dog. After asking questions and placing Xu on a special mat, they checked his soft belly fur, finding nothing unusual except a slight redness. "Has he come into contact with any other dogs recently?" "No." "Are you sure?" "Yes, I've been with him at home these past few days, but he's been restless like this." "Does he have a fever?" "No." The experienced veterinarian nodded, "If that's the case, there's no need to worry about him being sick. The reason for his restlessness is due to a condition called pseudo-pregnancy."

The barking came again, more urgent this time, echoing like it was running the length of the hallway toward me. My heart pounded. What the hell is really going on downstairs? And how come I never noticed a barking, growling, four-legged roommate in this psycho mansion before? The barking grew louder, almost frantic now, accompanied by the rapid drum of paws against the floor. My chest tightened. Damien didn’t strike me as the type to like dogs. He struck me as the type to shoot them for barking too loud. I froze mid-thought. Oh God. The barking wasn’t deep like a Rottweiler’s or sharp like a German Shepherd’s. No. This was higher-pitched, playful, almost too sweet for the hellhole I was in.