At first, I blamed it on age or stress; maybe the neighbors were making noise, or perhaps there was a cat hiding somewhere. But his persistence was unsettling — he knew the rules: no climbing on the furniture. Yet he sat there stubbornly, staring at the ceiling and growling softly, as if warning me about something very important.

— “What is it, buddy? What do you see up there?” — I asked, kneeling beside him. He turned his head, ears up. His bark was short and sharp. And every time I tried to get closer, he barked even louder.