The dog's damp and stinking breath made Vitka's greasy hair move. They stood opposite each other - a man who had instantly lost all his superiority, and a domesticated, pampered, but still an animal, which in a few minutes had subdued a man in an incomprehensible way. In fact, what can be done with this motley mass if it reads all thoughts more easily than the pattern of smells near the marking post? If the dog doesn’t allow you to reach either the knife or the stick, but he threw the phone to the floor with one blow of his sinewy paw and, mind you, listened to the frequent beeps? “You wanted to call,” Vitka sounded half-affirmatively, half-questioningly in his ears. – Who did you want to call? cops or flayers? A? Well, let's go. A small demonstration that you have no chance left. The wet mouth closed around his manhood, and Vitek, turning green with fear, followed his dog. The dog had to bow his head to lead him in such a convincing way.