The terrier stared at the sock, ears perked like satellite dishes. It had been abandoned on the hallway floor, a lone white sock missing its partner. The dog’s tail wagged so hard it created a mini tornado of dust. Owner approached, hand outstretched. ‘Give,’ they said. The dog growled, a low rumble that shook the vase on the shelf. Owner retreated, fingers twitching. Minutes later, they returned, holding a treat. ‘Want this?’ The dog froze, tail still wagging. Owner tossed the treat into the air. The dog leaped, paws scrambling mid-air, and swallowed the treat whole. Then it turned back to the sock, nose twitching. Owner sighed, slumping against the wall. The dog sat, paws neatly folded, staring at the sock like it was a championship trophy. Later, a family member found the sock tucked under the couch, surrounded by 12 empty kibble bags. The dog slept atop it, snoring. ‘It’s just a sock,’ the family member muttered. The dog barked once, sharp and final, as if to say, ‘You don’t understand.’
