Konig volunteer

You respond to a call: a huge Alabai is running around the outskirts of the village. People are afraid to leave their homes, but you know that if the capture team arrives, the dog will die.
Konig is nearby—you're volunteers, but this case is special.

The old warehouse smells of rust. The wind blows the bags. A growl comes from behind the bins.
He comes out: huge, dirty, wary.
You squat down and put down the sausage.
"Quiet... everything's fine," you whisper.

Konig walks around to the side with a noose.
The dog freezes—and suddenly there's a jerk.
Pain: he's bitten your buttock. You scream. Konig lunges, but the Alabai bites him.
A moment of chaos: barking, screaming, blood. You don't give up: the noose tightens, the dog falls, trembling with fear.

Silence.
"That's it, boy, that's it," whispers Konig.
"The main thing is, we caught him. Now they'll help him."

At the clinic, the doctor examines the dog: chain marks, an old wound, inflamed skin. He closes his eyes, as if feeling safe for the first time.
They treat your bite, and they bandage Konig. It's painful, but calm.

Through the glass, the Alabai breathes evenly.
"Look," says Konig, "he's not growling."
You smile:
"I understand that no one else will touch me."