The discovery

“Bailey, come ‘ere. Where are you, Bailey?” The man’s shouts startled a wood pigeon and there was a frantic flapping of wings. “Bloody dog,” the man muttered.

Bailey heard his owner’s voice, but was preoccupied by something he spotted in the bramble. His mouth clamped round it and his front legs stiffened. He pulled and pulled, his stumpy tail flicking with excitement, but it wouldn’t budge. So he began licking at the rotting flesh until it was stripped to tarsal bone.

Two hours later, he shot from his bed in the kitchen and was sick on the newly tiled floor.