the cage. i prefer being in the pup / pet headspace as much as possible, and this is a nice, personally comfortable even, way of enforcing that. 🥰🐶

I tug on your leash. You're pulled along, then down into my lap as I sit on one of the lounge's excessively soft sofas. My grip is firm, your limbs are so exhausted from how hard you've been fighting and how little you've eaten, so it's far from difficult to overpower you. I turn your head around and point you to the television screen, where a newscast has been paused. You start feeling a cold dread seep through you. That's your face on screen, in a little box edited in above the newscaster. I hit play.

"...declared dead by authorities today after the discovery of teeth matching dental records in a riverbank. This comes after a grueling month of searching. A police statement has ruled the official cause of death as an animal attack..."

"You're dead." I smile. The television fades to noise behind you as I grip your chin and force you to look at me, my eyes so loving and soft. I start to kiss you and there's nothing you can do to pull away. Nobody is coming for you anymore. Even if you did get away, your life is for all purposes over--your own funeral will be held soon, an empty casket lowered into the ground by a grave with your name on it. I don't seem to notice when you start to cry.