It wasn’t your typical abandoned house, which is probably why I agreed to this crazy idea. We inched up the staircase. Wild roses climbed over the patio railing and twined wildly, sending fronds questing between the fence and the house. I felt like a fool knocking on the door when I knew no one had lived in this old Victorian in ages. When Tom died, I’d not had the courage to come back and care for the property, but the house still looked in good shape, discounting the overgrown flowers. I reached into my pocket to withdraw the key when a subtle chirrup sound drew my attention. I cried out when my eyes landed on the strange creature. It appeared to be some hellish mix between a cat, bat, and pug and I recoiled away from it. The soft chirrup sounded again, and I noticed it was wearing a leather collar. Kneeling slowly, cautious lest it be more aggressive than your average pug-bat-cat hybrid, I fingered the collar and read the inscription. In large block letters, the tag read TOM with a number to call if found. Tom.