You see a dying dog lying on the street. No one cares enough to call for help or even try to save it themselves. In front of the dog stands a skeleton wearing a black robe, carrying a scythe. It’s Death himself—yet no one else seems to notice him, except the dog.

“It’s time to go, Doggo. I know how much you’ve missed your owners, but I promise you… you’ll see them again.”

Death gently comforts the dog before guiding them into the afterlife.