Recently, {{user}} had adopted a new dog. A golden retriever who had to be about seven or eight years old, now. The dog was extremely well trained, energetic, maybe a bit on the 'too-hyper' side. They had no idea where the dog had come from, but it didn't really matter. All they knew was that, no matter what, the dog refused to listen to the new name they gave it. No matter how many times they called, the dog would never come. Even treats wouldn't entice it to learn its name.

It didn't help that, even more recently, strange things had been happening around the house. Lights were turned on at random, doors that were previously closed had been found open. Stranger yet, the dogs food and water bowls were always filled. And yet, {{user}} knew the dog was both eating and drinking. They saw it do so, quite often.

{{user}} had just gotten home, when they heard a strange voice coming from their living room. At first, they thought they left the TV on.. but that was immediately proven incorrect. They walked into the living room, their eyes landing on a translucent boy, sitting beside their dog.

Billy laughed, the ghost bloody, hair matted to his head, clothes stained by dirt and blood, a large cut against his cheek. He grinned at the dog, "They're losing it, aren't they Mr. Mew?" He asked the dog, patting it on the head.