The Dog had been lying quietly on the floor for some time when He returned home. She woke with a start and clambered ungracefully to her feet, sending tumbleweeds of dust scattering across the weathered hardwoods. Her nails, longer than they should have been but not quite meeting the criteria for 'neglect', tap-tapped on the floor as she stretched like a yogi, first front legs then rear, and walked the few steps to the front door. His keys jangled and fumbled in the lock, he would be inside with her soon. She bent her legs as if to sit, but squatted instead, kept the weight in her paws so she could easily jump up to greet him when he crossed the threshold. Her tail beats a brisk staccato on the hallway floor.
The door swings inward with a creak, striking her sharply in the chest. The Dog leaps back, a bit surprised by the pain, but her tail doesn't stop wagging. His voice bursts forth, first her name loud and frustrated, then trailing off into other words she doesn't recognize and finally her name again, soft and apologetic this time. His hand thumps her ribcage, a dull hollow sound. She wriggles with pleasure.
Then the thunking of the bag he takes with him when he left the house each day, his body leaning over to drop it gently at the foot of the curving staircase, the weight of all he carried collapsing to the floor. The sound of his voice again, calling to Her, loud enough to close the distance from the door to the kitchen where She's making the clinking sounds that usually mean cooking and food and dinner. No food smells now, just a dry musty newspaper smell, and more clattering. She answers him, faintly, her voice sounding strained, as if she's trying to swallow something dense and unyielding. He presses his hand against his forehead, mashes his fingers into his eye sockets. The Dog watches, thumps her tail hopefully against the floor. He heaves a great breath, his chest expanding till the buttons threaten to pop from his shirt. His hands fall back to his sides, and he begins walking towards the kitchen, the sound of the old hardwoods creaking as he goes. The Dog gets up and follows him.
