I WOKE UP FROM A COMA AND DISCOVERED THEY HAD ABANDONED MY DOG, SO I KICKED THEM OUT OF MY LIFE FOREVER.

There are two beings in this world who saved my life when I fell into depression after my wife’s death: my dog, Hercules, a 60-kilo Great Dane rescued from pure love, and my job. My family, on the other hand, was only there to borrow.

I’m Roberto. Three years ago, I bought a big house with a garden. Since my sister Laura and her husband, Esteban, were going through a rough patch (which had already lasted five years), I let them live with me. I didn’t charge them rent. I only asked one thing:

“Respect Hercules. He’s my son. He’s all I have left of Claudia.”
Laura always complained.

“He’s a horse, Roberto. He sheds a lot. He smells like a dog. You should put him down or give him away. You’re too old to have pets; you need a real woman.”
I ignored her comments. Until two months ago, I had the accident.

A drunk driver hit me on the highway. I spent three weeks in an induced coma and another month in hospital rehabilitation. During that time, my only concern was Hercules.
“Don’t worry, little brother,” Laura would tell me when she came to visit (which was rare). “The dog is fine. He’s in the garden. Esteban feeds him. You just focus on walking.”

Last week I was discharged.

I arrived home on crutches, sore but eager to see my noble giant. I expected him to run to greet me, lick my face, nudge me with his snout.

I opened the door. Silence.
The garden was strangely clean. There were no chewed toys. His wooden doghouse wasn’t there.

Laura and Esteban were in the living room, watching TV on my new sofa.
“Where’s Hercules?” I asked, feeling a pit in my stomach.

Laura didn’t even turn off the TV.

“Oh, Roberto… we need to talk. Look, when you were in the hospital, the dog got very aggressive. He missed us a lot and… well, he ran away. He left the gate open and took off. We looked for him, I swear, but he didn’t turn up.

Someone must have taken him or… you know.
” “He ran away?” I limped toward the garden. The gate had a double lock. Hercules didn’t know how to open locks.

“Yes, little brother.” It was for the best. That house was full of fur. Now that you’re going to be in recovery, you need hygiene. Esteban and I think it’s a sign for you to start fresh. In fact, we painted your room and got rid of that old dog bed that stank.

Something didn’t add up. Laura was too calm.

I didn’t sleep that night. The next morning, while they were asleep, I went to the neighbor across the street, Mrs. Rosa, who has security cameras.

“Mrs. Rosa, I need to see the recordings from the 15th of last month.”
Mrs. Rosa looked at me with pity.