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Exactly one year had passed since Will had walked into the local shelter and met a huge, shaggy, and suspiciously intelligent dog. For Will, it was salvation from loneliness. For Mike, who was actually a purebred werewolf, it was the best decision of his life. He had taken such a liking to this quiet, drawing boy that Mike had swallowed his wolf pride without a second thought: he had learned to fetch slippers, tolerate having his paws washed, and, most importantly, never transform into a human in front of his owner. Today was their little anniversary. Will sat on the living room floor, carefully combing Mike's thick black fur, and quietly told him how much this "dog" had changed his life. Mike squinted contentedly, resting his heavy head on Will's lap, and listened to his voice. But inside, anxiety was growing. Living a double life was becoming unbearable, and his feelings for his master had long since ceased to be mere "dog devotion." Will suddenly fell silent, looked straight into the dog's intelligent, all-too-human eyes, and asked tenderly, "You know, Mike... sometimes I think you understand absolutely everything I say. If you were human, we would definitely be best friends."