After My Wife Died, Our Pet Dog Turned Strange

After my wife, Corrine, the woman who loved me more than life itself, was murdered and dismembered, something strange started happening with our pet dog, Buddy.

When I came home, Buddy would grab my slippers and place them neatly at the door. When I went to bed, he would pull the blanket over me, tucking me in as if he were Corrine. And when I watched TV, he’d nudge my back with his paws, giving me a massage.

All the things Corrine used to do for me when she was alive.

The change in Buddy didn’t go unnoticed. It left the whole family in tears. But while they were mourning, I decided to call the specialty butcher shop down the street.

"I have a dog at home. I’m giving it to you for free. Please send someone over to take care of it."

——

Everyone saw Corrine as the perfect wife.

In twenty years of marriage, we never once fought. No matter how late I got home, Corrine was always keeping a light on and waiting for me with a hot meal ready.

When I was diagnosed with kidney failure, she didn’t hesitate to donate a kidney. She hid it from me for three years, not wanting to burden me.

I only found out during a routine checkup.

She was, without a doubt, the best person in my life. But that woman, the one who gave me everything, was brutally murdered on my birthday. She was dismembered on her way home.

Even in death, her severed hand still clutched the birthday gift she’d bought for me.

Her kindness was known to everyone.

Naturally, her death caused an uproar.

But with no surveillance, no clues, and no enemies in her life, the killer remained unknown.

While my mother-in-law, Harriet Allen, my son, Kyle, and my brother-in-law, Shane, wept for her every day, Buddy, the dog that had been with us for seven years, started acting differently.

Once playful and full of energy, Buddy suddenly became calm, gentle, and obedient.

When I came home, Buddy would quickly bring my slippers to the door.

When I slept, he would quietly cover me with the blanket.

When my back hurt, he would massage me with his paws.

The family observed Buddy’s behavior and interpreted it as a sign of healing. They felt relieved and mentioned that Buddy had become more human-like, taking over the care of me from Corrine.

But instead of joining in their false comfort, I quietly redialed the specialty butcher shop.

"Do you still take dogs? I have a dog at home, and I’m giving it to you for free. Please send someone to take care of it."

Then, I gave them my address.

Kyle, who had been sitting on the couch, quickly grabbed my phone.

"Dad, what are you doing? Buddy’s been so good! How can you do this?"

Shane stared at me, confusion and concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, Michael, if you don’t want Buddy anymore, just give him to someone else. Why send him to the specialty butcher shop? Are you seriously going to watch someone eat him?"

Harriet, my mother-in-law, rushed in from the kitchen, panic in her voice.

"Michael, is losing Corrine affecting you this much? Are you out of your mind? You and Corrine treated Buddy like your own child. Now he even carries a piece of her spirit. Why would you want to send him to the specialty butcher shop?"

I looked down at Buddy and said calmly, "Seven years of raising him is enough."

The specialty butcher shop arrived quickly.

When Kyle saw the two traders with dog cages and sacks standing at the door, panic flooded his face.

He ran up to me, tears in his eyes. "Dad, please, don’t send Buddy to the specialty butcher shop!"

I looked at him coldly.

Without hesitation, he said, "This dog can’t stay."

Then, I turned to the traders. "Hurry up and take him."

As the traders moved toward Buddy, Kyle, Harriet, and Shane immediately stepped forward, blocking them from reaching the dog.