Three years after finding Sparky (the black and white dog) a dark figure appeared at the door and knocked twice.  Sparky put his head down and rubbed his soft head against my arm, but when I began making my way towards the door he grabbed my wrist with his teeth and pulled me away.  I shook him off me to reach for the handle.  A tall, skinny, grey haired women stood on the door mat.

“I believe you have my dog,” she said in a raspy voice.

“Uh.  I don’t think so,” I replied.

Then she pushed me out of the way and started looking herself.  Sparky was in the next room making crying noises.  I quickly grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into the garage and locked him in.  When I returned to the living room the lady was gone and had left the door wide open.

To be continued.