Annie Carter had just moved into a small apartment above the hardware store. At 27, she was finally starting her new job as a graphic designer after years of freelancing and saving. Her days were usually routine—coffee, work, groceries—but that Monday, a pair of mournful eyes changed her life.

She was walking home from the butcher shop with a bag of steaks when she noticed Benny sitting quietly outside the window. His ears perked up as the door opened, but he didn’t approach. He just watched.

Then she heard it: a loud gurgle from his stomach, followed by a soft whine.