Myrtle was in the age of retirement. She lived alone after her husband Arnold passed away. She was a sweet woman. She had eyes foggy gray with age and her silver hair was always up in a bun. She had no children although she was a grandmother to many children.
Every night Myrtle went to bed with her small dog, Frank. Every night before she would fall asleep she would put her hand under the bed. If the house was safe Frank would lick her hand. Every night was the same routine. Bathe, lay in bed, hand under the bed, lick as a sign of safety, and then sleep.
One afternoon, Myrtle was watching the television. "A rapist has been discovered. We advise to lock your houses up and not to welcome anyone you do not personally know into your homes. Its for your safety." The reporter put quite the scare into Myrtle. She locked all the windows and doors in the house. The only window she couldn't lock was in the basement. It had been broken since Arnold was alive seven years ago and no one had ever broken in.
That night her routine was unchanged. She bathed, put on her silk pajamas, and climbed into bed. While her eyes started to drift close she heard a bang in the basement. Her wrinkled hands began to sweat. She stuck her hand under her bed and Frank licked it. Everything was fine. She took a breath to calm herself and began to let her body drift back to sleep. Right before sleep engulfed her there was a loud bang in the basement.
Scared, she stuck her hand under the bed. Frank licked her frail hand. Everything was safe. Again she took a deep breath to calm herself. The next series of noices from the basement didn't wait for her to almost fall back asleep. Not being able to stand this racket she got out of bed and put on her slippers. She walked, slow with age, to her basement door. With a shaky hand she opened it.
She gasped and grabbed her chest at what she saw. There, hung Frank, her dog, from a rope. He had been skinned, his poor body hardly resembling the adorable puppy that had given her a feeling of safety for years. Behind him, written in his blood was a note. It read, "Dear Myrtle, humans can lick to."
