I'm taking the opportunity to lay on my back, legs spread somewhat obscenely while I snooze, when I hear the key scrape in the front door's lock. In a moment, I'm on my feet and scratching at the door, whining and barking at whoever dares interrupt my evening nap. I'm somewhat disappointed when my mummy opens the door; I never get the chance to bite burglars like those TV dogs do. She maneuvers past me, throws the keys on the worn kitchen counter, and sinks into the nearest chair. Her hands come up to cover her face.

She's acting oddly. She always makes baby noises and scratches me behind the ears when she gets home. She always makes the happy, teeth showing face, but now her face is shiny wet. I cock my head. I didn't *smell* rain today. Maybe she went running through the sprinklers.

No, that can't be it. She never lets me run through the sprinklers, so I don't think she would. It's strange. She smells smoky too, but not like those paper sticks her friend John lights on fire when he comes over. Mummy always sprays the nasty flower-smelling spray after he leaves. She's not spraying it now.

Now she's making noises. Odd, moaning noises. Is she in pain? Her face is red and blotchy. I pad up to her and put my head on her lap, but this only makes the noises worse. Then I realize. She's *crying*. I remember seeing it on the television. There was a pretty lady in black and the music got louder and more dramatic along with her noises. *Crying*.

I don't want my mummy to cry. The lady in black didn't look happy and neither does my mummy.

I lift my face from her lap and try to kiss her face, but she pushes my big head away. This makes me whine. Why won't she let me help her?

She gets up and I notice her eyes are harder and determined looking. She angrily smears her tears off her face and begins grabbing the photos off the walls, the stuff on the counter, throwing them in the trash where I hear them crash and smash.

I'm a little scared now. My tail goes between my legs, I put my head down and flatten my ears. She's not gonna smash me in the garbage, is she? Why is she so sad? She stops to throw her spiky shoes in the corner and notices me. Her eyes soften as she walks over to me, murmuring to me that it's okay. I'm still a little nervous though, and I lower my head when she tries to pat it which makes her eyebrows furrow in concern. She moves her hand under my chin though, and it creeps back to stroke my

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