Work Text:
⏳
Footsteps echo along the curb of the street.
The police dog’s expression is weary, yet a smile lingers on his face; the weight of the job feels much lighter when he knows who is waiting for him at home.
After a few minutes of walking, he reaches his abode. He pulls out his keys and opens the door to find the lights off.
"Strange," Dog Man thinks to himself.
The dog-man sets his things down on a table near the entrance and heads up to the second floor.
The scene before him is heart-melting. He sees Petey and Li'l Petey fast asleep; it looked as though Petey had drifted off while reading a book to the little one.
Dog Man can’t help but let out a soft chuckle, a look of pure relief washing over him. With that settled, he moves into his usual routine. He needs to change, take a shower, and get comfortable. Being the city's finest cop is grueling; even with the world's most evil cat no longer prowling the streets, crime never sleeps.
Afterward, the officer—now out of uniform—settles onto the downstairs sofa and switches on the TV. With the weekend approaching, he knows he can afford this brief moment for himself.
Minutes pass before the sound of footsteps drifts down from the second floor. A moment later, Petey appears, his eyes heavy with sleep as he meets Dog Man’s gaze.
"You didn't even say hi, flea-bag," Petey muttered, rubbing his eyes.
"I saw you sleeping upstairs. You looked way too cute for me to wake you up right then," Dog Man replied, shifting over to make room for Petey to join him.
Petey accepted the gesture, reclining first onto the sofa and then resting against the officer’s chest.
"Heavy day?" Petey asked.
"Like every other day," Dog Man replied, his voice thick with fatigue. He punctuated his words by gently stroking Petey’s head. "But this... this is why I go to work."
"You’re so corny," Petey said, trying to hide an obvious flush, though it was a lost cause. "It’s not like I’m such a big deal that you have to say things like that."
"You are. You really are. It seems you still haven't realized just how much this house changed the moment you two arrived," Dog Man sighed, his hand continuing its rhythmic, affectionate path through Petey's fur.
Petey took a moment to look around. Even with the lights dimmed, the house felt alive—a home with a soul. Neither he nor Dog Man liked using the term "family" just yet, but for Li'l Petey’s sake, they accepted it a little more each day. It was a house covered in drawings on the walls and photos of the three of them; every corner whispered a story, and every inch of that small home felt sacred. Petey pulled his focus back to the present and, turning slightly, looked up at Dog Man.
"Yeah... maybe I’m the one who hasn't realized it yet," Petey smiled sheepishly, resting his cheek against Dog Man’s chest.
For a while, a comfortable silence filled the room, with only the low hum of the TV in the background. It didn't matter; it was as if the two of them were tucked away in a private world where only a cat and a dog knew exactly how to make each other feel at peace. Even if they wouldn't admit it, even if they denied it at times, the love was there—though one of them saw it much more clearly than the other.
"Hey, Petey... want to go out tomorrow night? I think I found a nice place to eat and I’d like to... you know," Dog Man said, glancing away as a bit of bashfulness took over.
"Are you asking me out on a date? Me?" Petey teased, his voice playful and mock-surprised as he remained nestled against him. "Sure, Mr. Officer. I accept."
Dog Man rolled his eyes, a faint smile spreading across his face as a blush crept up his cheeks.
"Li'l Petey has Molly’s birthday party tomorrow, so we won't have to worry about a thing," Dog Man added.
"How responsible of you, Mr. Officer," Petey replied, his voice trailing off as exhaustion finally won.
Within minutes, Petey surrendered to sleep, and Dog Man followed shortly after. The TV remained the only sound in the living room while Li'l Petey slept soundly upstairs. Nothing in the world could have prepared the three of them for just how devastating the coming weeks would be.
⏳
Morning light filtered through the curtains, painting golden stripes across the kitchen table. The scent of coffee and toasted bread filled the air—a fragrance Petey never associated with happiness until he ended up living under the same roof as the officer.
Li'l Petey sat in his high chair, swinging his feet energetically as he devoured his cereal. On the table, a gift wrapped in shiny paper and a card decorated with stars waited to be taken to Molly’s birthday party.
"Papa! Do you think Molly will like the robot we built?" Li'l Petey asked, his mouth half-full. "It has lights and everything!"
Petey, whose back was turned as he served a second plate, gave a lopsided smile. "Molly loves anything that explodes or glows, son. That robot is perfect."
Dog Man entered the kitchen, still finishing the buttons on his crisp white uniform shirt. He looked imposing, yet his eyes were fixed solely on Petey. He approached and, with a naturalness that still made the hair on Petey’s neck stand up, gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder as he passed.
"Good morning," Dog Man murmured in that deep voice that always seemed to vibrate in Petey’s chest.
"Good morning, Dog Man," Petey replied, placing a plate of eggs in front of him. "Eat fast, or Li'l Petey will head to the party before you even realize how much he’s grown today."
The conversation flowed between small laughs and plans for when Li'l Petey would return home. Dog Man looked especially excited; he had even polished his shoes twice. Petey watched him in silence, feeling that familial warmth, yet with a pang of something he couldn't quite identify. It was as if the paper of his life were too smooth, too perfect.
Suddenly, Dog Man’s radio sitting on the table roared with static, shattering the bubble they were all in.
"Dog Man, code red downtown. We need all available units at the station immediately. I repeat, code red."
Dog Man tensed instantly. He dropped his fork mid-air and looked at the radio, then at Petey.
"It’s Chief," Dog Man said, his tone shifting from family man to officer in a split second. "They don't usually call like that unless something has spiraled out of control."
"Go," Petey said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though his coffee went cold in his stomach. "Duty calls for the 'best officer in the city,' doesn't it?"
Dog Man stood up, grabbed his cap from the table, and leaned over to give Li'l Petey a quick goodbye kiss on the head. Then he stopped in front of Petey. They stared at each other for a second—a second where the world seemed to be on pause.
"I have to go, but I won't be long," Dog Man said, taking Petey’s hand for a moment and squeezing it tight. "I’ll be back early. I promise," he added, almost in a whisper.
"You better," Petey joked, though his voice sounded a bit lower than usual.
Dog Man ran out the door, and the sound of his patrol car engine igniting and fading away was all that remained in the air. Petey stood there in the sunlit kitchen, staring at the empty spot where Dog Man had just been sitting.
"Papa, do you think he’ll be back soon?" Li'l Petey asked, breaking the silence.
"He always keeps his promises, son," Petey replied, though for the first time in a long time, he felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the weather.
...
Petey dropped Li'l Petey off at Molly’s house. He stood for a moment looking at the closed door, feeling that strange freedom that comes from knowing no one is waiting for you for the next few hours. He checked his phone. No messages.
He walked toward the city center, where giant screens screamed the chaos unfolding at the Central Bank. People crowded around to see Officer Dog Man in action. To the city, Dog Man was the lone hero who lived with a reformed cat out of pure charity or convenience. Rumors existed, yes, but no one had ever seen them hold hands; no one had confirmed that what happened in that house with drawings on the walls was anything more than a truce.
Tonight was supposed to be the first. The first time they would go out as something real. And now, the officer was busy being a symbol, leaving Petey to be... nobody.
"Petey? Wow, it’s been a while since we crossed paths without the kids around."
Petey turned. It was a cat. The cat standing before him was imposing, with a natural elegance and a smile that didn't ask permission to enter. He was the father of one of Li'l Petey’s friends. Petey had always seen him as highly attractive due to his joviality—someone who radiated a light Petey felt he no longer possessed. To Petey, he seemed unreachable.
"Hi. Yeah, day off," Petey replied, trying to hide his gloom.
"You look tense. And downtown is a mess with the bank situation," the cat said, stepping closer. His tone dropped to something more intimate, warmer. "I was heading out for a drink. Solitude is a terrible companion. Why don’t you come with me? We can talk for a bit if you’d like."
Petey looked at the screen one last time. Dog Man was there, surrounded by cameras, worlds away from him. Petey’s insecurity—that fear of "not being enough" for the city's hero—intertwined with the charisma of this stranger who looked at him as if Petey were the most interesting person on the street. To this cat, Petey wasn’t Dog Man’s partner. He was just Petey.
"I’m in," he said, feeling a small part of his chest close while another swung wide open.
The bar was a sanctuary of dim lights. The conversation was electric. The other cat wasn't just cheerful; he was attentive—too much so. He laughed at Petey’s biting remarks and asked about his past inventions, his dreams—things Petey felt Dog Man took for granted or didn't value as much because of the history they shared. There was honest chemistry, a connection that, to the other cat, felt like the start of something genuine.
"It’s been a long time since I met someone like you," the cat told him, his hand brushing against Petey’s on the table. "I thought someone so incredible would have half the city queuing at their door."
"I’m not that incredible," Petey lied, finishing the rest of his whiskey. He felt desired in a new way, without the weight of his "villain" past. Here, he was new. Here, he was pure.
He let himself go. He let himself be loved by someone who didn't know he was invading a territory that already had an owner, even if the owner hadn't planted his flag yet.
...
The silence of the hotel room was sepulchral.
Petey sat on the edge of the mattress, his back to the cat who was now resting with an expression of absolute peace. To that cat, what had just happened was the start of a romance, a perfect encounter with someone he truly liked. He had given himself over with the joy of someone who believed they were building something.
For Petey, the sex had been white noise to drown out his own mind. But now that the noise had stopped, the silence was deafening.
He looked at his reflection in the fogged-up bathroom mirror. There were no physical marks, but he felt transformed. He had used this man's sincerity to fill his own "quota" of attention. He had played at being free when he knew perfectly well he had a commitment at home.
He turned on his phone. The screen illuminated his weary face with a notification from Dog Man:
"It’s all over. Heading home. So sorry about the date, I’ll make it up to you. Tomorrow for sure, Petey. I love you."
The "I love you" hurt more than a physical blow. That date was supposed to be the moment they made it official, to tell the world they loved each other. And now, Petey felt the invitation was arriving at an address where he no longer lived.
He dressed quickly, his movements mechanical. The other cat half-woke, reaching out a hand toward him. "Leaving already?" he asked in a sleepy, affectionate voice. "Call me tomorrow, okay? Seriously... I really liked you, Petey."
Petey left the hotel room with his heart hammering against his ribs. Turning on his screen again and re-reading Dog Man’s message, a shudder ran through his entire body: Li'l Petey. Between the alcohol and the lust, his mind had been too clouded to think of his little one.
He ran through the streets—not for exercise, but for survival. He picked up Li'l Petey at Molly’s with a cheap excuse about having fallen asleep. The little one, still buzzing from the party, didn't question a thing, but Petey felt his trembling hands as they walked back home were betraying him.
They arrived home just minutes before the patrol car. Petey flicked on a couple of lights, tossed his jacket on the sofa, and sat next to Li'l Petey with an open book, faking a calm he didn't possess. His skin still burned from the stranger's touch; he could smell the other cat's scent clinging to his fur—an invisible perfume that, to him, screamed of his betrayal.
The sound of Dog Man’s engine came to a halt outside the door.
"I’m home," the officer announced, entering with his shoulders slumped from exhaustion but his eyes bright with the satisfaction of a job well done.
Dog Man left his gear at the entrance. He looked spent, his uniform stained with soot and gunpowder, but seeing Petey and Li'l Petey on the sofa, his expression softened completely. He approached them, radiating that honest warmth Petey used to love.
"Hi," Petey managed to say.
The officer didn't notice that Petey’s fur was slightly ruffled, nor that his eyes were avoiding contact at all costs. He didn't notice the wave of disgust Petey swallowed every time he inhaled the air in the room. To Dog Man, Petey and Li'l Petey were his home.
"I’m so sorry about today," Dog Man said. "The bank was a disaster. I'll make it up to you."
Petey felt a tear burning his eye. He held it back with desperate strength, nodding while biting the inside of his cheek. Seeing Dog Man so satisfied, so trusting, was like receiving a slow-motion stab.
"Go shower, you smell like gunpowder," Petey said, forcing a smile that felt more like a scar across his face.
Dog Man chuckled softly, walked away, and soon the sound of the shower running filled the air—the usual routine, the sound of a life that, until hours ago, was perfect.
Li'l Petey, who had been unusually quiet, looked up at his father. "Papa... are you okay? You look... weird. Like you’re scared."
Petey felt the world shrinking around him. Children have a radar for the truth that adults try to bury. "I’m just tired, son. Let’s go to sleep, come on."
Petey and Li'l Petey went upstairs, and moments later Petey tucked him in with clumsy movements. He kissed his forehead, feeling unworthy of touching such innocence. When the light in the boy’s room went out, Petey walked down the stairs, step by step, feeling the weight of a corpse on his shoulders.
He reached the first floor. The house was silent, save for the hum of the refrigerator. He stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by Li'l Petey’s drawings and the photos of the three of them.
And then, he broke.
He collapsed to the floor, but there were no screams. It was a silent shattering, a dry sob that shook his entire body as he hugged himself, trying to tear away the sensation of having committed an irreversible mistake.
The feeling wouldn't go away. Petey knew it.
⏳
The city had become a beast difficult to tame. A wave of petty crimes, armed robberies, and disturbances in the suburbs kept the police station in a state of permanent alert. For Officer Dog Man, this meant double shifts, night patrols, and arriving home when the moon was at its highest point—exhausted to the bone, with barely enough energy to kiss the forehead of a Petey who was only pretending to be asleep.
That physical distance became the perfect breeding ground for a poison that began to kill Petey from the inside out.
Petey sat on the edge of the bed, the blue light of his phone illuminating his weary face. Li'l Petey was already asleep, worn out from his day at school. Dog Man wouldn't be back until after midnight. The silence of the house, which once felt like peace, now felt like an accusation.
A message vibrated in his hand.
Cat (Family Man): I can’t stop thinking about the other night. Are you free? I’m dying to see you again.
Petey gripped the phone. His fingers hesitated, but only for a second. The adrenaline of being desired by someone other than Dog Man was a drug too potent to resist.
Petey: Same place. In twenty minutes.
He closed his eyes and bit his lip. This was the third time in a week. The first time had been a mistake; the second, a weakness; this third time was already starting to feel like a routine.
The hotel smelled of cheap cleaning products and anonymity. For Petey, this place was becoming his true home—a space where he didn't have to be anyone’s father or anyone’s partner.
While the other cat—always jovial, always attentive, always imposing—moved over him, Petey felt his soul detaching from his body. It was guilt gnawing at every nerve, an internal fire that wasn't extinguished by the act, but rather fed by it.
But there was something else. Something dark starting to take root in his mind. In the darkness of the room after the act, Petey stared at the ceiling while the other cat rested beside him. He began to compare. With Dog Man, intimacy had always been largely unexplored territory, driven by the fear of interspecies complications, biological differences, the fear of something going wrong... all of that had built a glass wall between them. It wasn't obvious, but over time, Petey had come to feel it. With Dog Man, love was pure, but chaste; it was an eternal promise that was never consummated in bed out of fear for the fragility of their natures.
In contrast, here, with this cat, he wasn't afraid. There was only skin, lust, and a prowess that Dog Man could never match.
"He can’t give me this," Petey thought, justifying the weight of his betrayal. "Dog Man loves me, but he can’t reach this part of me. This is just... a physical need. It doesn't count. Not really."
It was a lie, and Petey knew it. But he needed to believe it to keep from throwing himself out of the hotel window.
He arrived home shortly before Dog Man. He changed clothes quickly, splashed his face with ice-cold water, and crawled under the covers.
When he heard the front door open and Dog Man’s heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, Petey felt a disgust so profound he had to cover his mouth to keep from gagging. Dog Man entered the darkened room, removed his gear with a tired sigh, and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Petey... are you still awake?" Dog Man whispered, his voice cracked with fatigue.
Petey didn't answer. He kept his breathing steady.
Dog Man leaned over and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead—a gesture loaded with a tenderness Petey found unbearable. "I'm so sorry for being late again. I love you."
Petey felt his soul shatter into pieces. But even in the midst of that pain, the image of the other cat—his laughter and his skill in bed—intruded upon his thoughts. It wasn't just sex anymore; it was an obsession starting to occupy the space that belonged to his family.
⏳
The house, which once overflowed with children’s laughter and the joyful chaos of Li'l Petey’s antics, had become a mausoleum of silence. With Li'l Petey away at school camp for a few days, the walls covered in drawings and photos seemed to watch Petey with accusing eyes.
Petey could no longer stand the weight of the air in that home. He took advantage of his son's absence and Dog Man’s interminable shifts to surrender completely to his escape. It wasn't love; it was a sickly necessity. He spent his days glued to the phone, sending messages that burned, making constant getaways to that hotel he now knew by heart. Again, and again, and again. He lost himself in the other cat's skin, seeking something in the sweat and the urgency that might erase the guilt, but he only managed to drive it deeper.
Every time he returned home before Dog Man arrived, Petey felt as though the floor were scorching his paws.
One night, Dog Man walked through the door dragging his feet. His badge glinted under the dim light of the living room. He stopped when he saw Petey sitting in the shadows of the dining room, facing a cold dinner he hadn't touched.
"I'm sorry... again," Dog Man said, his voice a broken whisper. "Chief won't let us breathe with everything that's going on. I feel like I'm leaving you all alone in this, Petey."
Petey didn't look up. His fingers tightened around the edge of the table. The "disgust" he felt wasn't directed at Dog Man; it was a physical nausea toward his surroundings. He felt unworthy. Unworthy of the drawings on the wall, unworthy of the chair he sat in, unworthy of the light Dog Man projected simply by existing.
"It doesn't matter," Petey replied, with a coldness meant to push the officer away.
"Of course it matters." Dog Man approached, attempting to place a hand over his. "Li'l Petey comes back tomorrow. Maybe we can... I don't know, have breakfast together before I leave. I miss you. Even though we’re in the same house, it feels like I’m not really..."
Petey pulled his hand away abruptly, standing up to clear the plates. "I’m tired, Dog Man. Just... go to sleep."
Dog Man stood there, in the middle of the room, his hand extended toward empty space. He didn't understand. He thought Petey’s coldness was just loneliness—the price of his demanding job. He couldn't see that Petey felt like a parasite inhabiting the body of a saint. Petey climbed the stairs, thinking about how life had given him the greatest second chance in history—going from villain to father, to partner, to being loved—and how he had completely shredded it.
Days later, after Li'l Petey returned from camp, Dog Man took the little one to the backyard to help him with a school project. Petey watched them from the kitchen window, hidden behind the curtain, feeling that his mere gaze was staining the scene.
Dog Man knelt beside Li'l Petey, helping him adjust a few wooden pieces. "Hey, champ," Dog Man said in a low voice, making sure Petey couldn't hear. "I have to tell you a secret."
Li'l Petey dropped his tools and opened his eyes wide, excited. "Is it about a new case, Papa?"
"No, it’s about us. About this house." Dog Man smiled, and it was the purest smile Li'l Petey had ever seen from him. "I know things have been a bit tense lately and that I’ve been working a lot... but I want Petey to know that this is forever."
Dog Man pulled out a small, scarlet-red box with a ring inside—modest, but very beautiful. "At the end of the month, when this madness at the station is over, I’m going to make us official. I want to ask him to marry me, Li'l Petey. I want us to be a real family, with papers and everything. What do you think?"
Li'l Petey jumped with joy, throwing his arms around Dog Man’s neck. "He’s going to love it! Papa is going to be so happy!"
Dog Man hugged his son, looking toward the kitchen window with a hope and excitement he hadn't felt in a long time, never knowing that behind that curtain, the man he wanted to give his life to was counting the minutes to betray him again, consumed by a regret he no longer knew how to redirect.
⏳
Lying had become an art form for Petey, but it was an art that was tearing his hands apart.
With Li'l Petey back, the space for his double life had shrunk, forcing him to be more "resourceful." He used the time after dropping the boy off at school or invented late-night walks, claiming he needed "his space." He became an expert at timing Dog Man’s patrols, calculating every second so his absence wouldn't raise suspicion.
But Li'l Petey was no fool. The boy watched him from the doorway, seeing how his father checked his phone compulsively. Li'l Petey noticed that the spark in Petey’s eyes wasn't the same as before; his gaze was full of exhaustion—a look that always seemed to be searching for an emergency exit. But the child, with that unconditional love that hurts to witness, remained silent.
...
The hotel’s ceiling fan spun with a monotonous creak, cutting through the heavy air laden with a scent Petey could no longer stand.
Petey lay there, his gaze lost in a damp stain on the ceiling, feeling the weight of the other cat’s arm across his chest. The cat—the one who radiated a light that Petey saw fit to extinguish every night—stroked his fur with a tenderness that made Petey’s stomach churn.
"You know... I’ve been thinking," the cat murmured, his voice a soft purr full of a hope that Petey did not share. "I don't want it to be just this anymore, you know? I’d like you to be my boyfriend, Petey. I want us to make it official."
Petey tensed. The contact he had desperately sought seconds ago now burned him.
"Don't start with that," Petey replied, his voice like a sheet of ice. "We’re fine like this. Don't overcomplicate things."
The other cat sat up, propping himself on an elbow, looking at him with a mix of confusion and pain. "I’m not complicating it. We’ve been doing this for weeks. I feel like I know you better than anyone."
"It’s just sex," Petey spat, sitting on the edge of the bed to turn his back on him. "You have your life and I have mine. Don't mix the two."
There was a long silence, a silence that was suddenly shattered by the sound of something breaking inside. The other cat let out a dry, mirthless laugh.
"Just sex? What the hell are you talking about?" The cat stood up, his voice rising. "Don't you remember what you told me a few days ago? Or last night?"
Petey frowned, confused. To him, the moments of intimacy were white noise. As soon as the act began, his mind disconnected; he sank into a black void where only skin existed. He didn't remember words. He didn't remember promises. His mind erased the footage of those hours just so he could survive the return home.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Petey said with cold sincerity.
"You told me you loved me!" the cat shouted, his eyes beginning to well up. "You promised me you’d leave everything for me! That we’d move to the coast together. You talked to me about starting a family. You promised me the sun and the stars between moans and kisses, Petey! You gave me hope for an entire lifetime! ...And now you say you don't remember?"
Petey froze. He remembered none of it. But seeing the genuine desperation in the other’s eyes, he knew it was true. In the height of his desperation, in that trance where pleasure mixed with self-hatred, his subconscious had vomited out all the desires he couldn't fulfill with Dog Man. He had used this man—this innocent, noble man—as a dumping ground for his broken fantasies.
"I... I don't remember saying that," Petey stammered, feeling small.
"Of course you don't remember! I’m just a game to you, right?" The other cat began to dress with violent movements, his hands shaking with fury. "You used me. I opened my heart to you and now you act like a stranger."
The cat put on his jacket and walked toward the door, but before leaving, he turned to look at Petey one last time. There was no longer love in his gaze, only a deep disappointment that Petey recognized immediately: it was the same one that haunted him whenever he looked in the mirror.
"You disgust me, Petey," the cat declared, his voice now a sharpened whisper.
The door slammed shut with a dull thud that seemed to shake the very foundations of the building.
Petey sat alone in the dim light. Silence filled the room once more.
He looked at his phone. A message from Dog Man: "Bought pizza for dinner. Li'l Petey and I are waiting for you. We miss you, come home soon."
Petey buried his face in his hands and, for the first time, he couldn't cry.
⏳
The house had become a bittersweet place for Petey. He walked through its halls doubting whether he even deserved his own life, measuring every breath, every gesture, every word. To Dog Man and Li'l Petey, Petey was simply "in the clouds"—perhaps stressed about something he didn't want to share, or just plain tired. They saw him as someone lost in his own thoughts, never suspecting the rot festering beneath the surface. Petey hid his betrayal with a terrifying mastery; he was so good at it that it was frightening.
That afternoon, the sun dyed the streets a melancholy orange. Dog Man and Petey were walking along the curb, a stroll Dog Man had insisted on so they could reconnect.
Dog Man walked with a renewed vigor, nearly overflowing with a joy that felt like a slap in the face to Petey. "Just three more days, Petey," the officer said, gesturing with enthusiasm. "Chief finally signed off on the end of the special operation. I’m finally going back to my normal hours. No more double shifts... I can finally be with you guys like before!"
Petey maintained a false smile, nodding mechanically. "That sounds good, Dog Man," he managed to utter, though the words felt stuck in his throat like sand.
"It’s more than that," Dog Man continued, lowering his voice with a glint of complicity in his eyes. "I was thinking that as soon as this is over, we could take a vacation. The three of us. Far away from the city, the crimes, everything. Just us. I have so many things planned, Petey... I want this to be the best trip of our lives."
Petey listened, and for a cynical instant, his mind felt safe. He thought that despite all the disgust and the disaster of what he’d done, at least he still had Dog Man. Dog Man knew nothing. He continued to love him with that characteristic, unbreakable purity. "I can bury it," Petey told himself. "I can forget the other cat and be the man Dog Man thinks I am. No one ever has to find out."
But fate has a twisted sense of humor.
Upon reaching a crosswalk, while waiting for the light to change, Petey looked up toward the opposite sidewalk. And the world stopped.
There, waiting to cross in the opposite direction, was him.
The other cat frowned at first, confused to see Petey, but his expression rapidly transformed into something much darker. His eyes dropped to the position of their bodies, then traveled up to Dog Man’s uniform, and finally returned to Petey’s face. Realization hit him like a physical blow.
The other cat shook his head, a display of anger and disappointment so profound that Petey felt as if his skin were being peeled off. Without saying a single word, the cat turned on his heel and ran from the scene, vanishing into the crowd.
Petey stood frozen, the blood in his veins turning to ice. Air wouldn't reach his lungs.
"Petey? Are you okay?" Dog Man’s voice brought him back. The officer, worried by his partner's sudden rigidity, had taken his hand warmly, intertwining their fingers with a heat that, in that moment, felt unbearable. "You went pale all of a sudden. Did you see something?"
The contact of Dog Man’s hand, so warm and protective, felt like a burn to Petey. "Home," Petey blurted out compulsively, pulling his hand away with a sharp, almost violent movement. "I have to go home. Now. I feel... I feel really sick, Dog Man."
They arrived at the house in a tense silence. Dog Man tried to say something at the entrance, but Petey dodged him and went straight to the bathroom.
He locked himself inside, turning the bolt with trembling hands. He leaned his back against the door, breathing in ragged gasps, until he finally forced himself to walk toward the sink. He turned on the faucet and splashed ice-cold water on his face—once, twice, three times—trying to wash away a trace that water couldn't touch.
When he finally looked up and saw himself in the mirror, the reflection staring back terrified him.
He saw the dark circles under his eyes; he saw the tension in his jaw; but above all, he saw the gaze of a stranger.
"Who am I?" he whispered, his own voice sounding foreign to him.
He touched his face, searching for recognition, but he felt only the mask. He knew that outside, on the other side of that door, there was a ring waiting for him—a promise of "forever" that he had already shattered into a thousand pieces before it was even spoken.
Petey sank to the bathroom floor, clutching his knees.
⏳
The last few days were not just days; they were hours of torture that felt like they were being stretched into infinity. The air in the house had turned solid, difficult to breathe. Petey could no longer stand his own face in the mirror—that mask he put on every morning to greet a Dog Man who looked at him with adoration. He repeated to himself, like a desperate mantra, that everything would be fine. That the cat wouldn't return. That the secret was a corpse buried deep. "He doesn't have to find out," he thought, while his hands shook as he served Li'l Petey’s cereal.
But the truth always finds its way to the light.
At the station, the atmosphere was one of celebration. Chief approached Dog Man’s office with a wide grin, clapping him on the shoulder with pride.
"Incredible work this month, Dog Man. Crime rates are down 15%. The city sleeps soundly thanks to you." Chief paused, searching for something in the bag he was carrying. "Oh, right, I almost forgot. This came for you in the afternoon mail. A personal envelope."
Chief handed him a thick, heavy manila envelope. Dog Man frowned, puzzled; he didn't usually receive private correspondence at the station. With a quick salute, he said goodbye to his boss and left the building, envelope under his arm.
As he walked home, the world began to feel strangely slow. The noise of the cars became a distant hum. Dog Man opened the envelope with curiosity, perhaps expecting a thank-you note from a citizen or a pending report.
What he found was something he could not have anticipated even in his worst nightmares.
They were photos. Several of them. And a letter.
The letter began with a cordial greeting, but it was loaded with a pain that pierced through the paper. It was from the cat. In it, with a shaky but firm hand, the feline told him who he was. He explained, with a detail that burned the eyes, exactly what had happened with Petey. Every encounter, every promise, every lie Petey had used to escape the house. The cat told Dog Man he didn't want to be the accomplice to a farce, that he felt used, and that Dog Man deserved to know who the man he shared his home with really was.
Dog Man stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. His hands began to vibrate violently as he turned to the photos.
The first photo hit him like a gunshot to the chest: Petey and the other cat, intertwined in that hotel bed, sharing a moment so intimate it had been recorded and exposed before the officer's eyes.
Dog Man’s knees gave out. He collapsed onto the concrete, dropping the envelope as the photos scattered around him. A harrowing sob—an animalistic, broken sound—escaped his throat. He couldn't stop looking. He moved to the next photo, and the next. He saw Petey’s face—the face he saw every morning—lit by desire for someone else.
Dog Man stayed there, on his knees, crying in silence as the sun set.
...
Night had fallen completely when the sound of the key in the lock was heard.
Inside, the house was in shadows. Li'l Petey was already asleep upstairs, unaware that his family's world had just exploded. Petey was sitting on the sofa on the first floor, the television tuned to a news channel, but his gaze was lost in nothingness. He was faking waiting for Dog Man as usual, maintaining the charade until the very last second.
Dog Man entered. He didn't leave his cap at the entrance. He didn't say hello. He walked with heavy steps, dragging his soul, and sat on the sofa right next to Petey.
Petey noticed immediately that something was wrong. Dog Man’s eyes were bloodshot, swollen from crying, and his breathing was a ragged whistle.
"Dog Man? What’s wrong? Was there a problem at the station?" Petey asked, reaching out a hand with that false tenderness that was now instinctive. "You look terrible... let me help you—"
"Is it true?"
Dog Man’s voice wasn't that of an officer; it was the voice of a wounded child. Without looking at Petey, he lifted the envelope and let the letter and the photos fall onto Petey’s lap.
The image of the two of them in the hotel sat right on top—sharp, cruel, and undeniable under the glow of the TV.
Petey froze. The air escaped his lungs and his heart seemed to stop in his chest. The silence that followed was the sound of an entire life breaking into a thousand pieces. He looked at the photo, then the letter, and finally Dog Man’s eyes, which were desperately searching for a lie that could no longer be told.
"Is it true, Petey?" Dog Man repeated, and this time a lone tear rolled down his cheek. "Everything it says here... is it true?"
The silence that followed Dog Man’s question wasn't a void; it was a physical pressure, a weight that seemed to be crushing the walls of the living room. Petey did not answer. He couldn't. His vocal cords had turned into threads of broken glass. He stayed there, petrified, his gaze fixed on those photos that returned the image of a man he didn't want to recognize. His heart, which had been crumbling week after week, received its final stab that night—the most accurate one, the one that finally stopped his emotional pulse.
Dog Man watched him. There were no shouts, no blows, no fury one would expect from a police officer. What was on his face was much worse: a disappointment so vast it didn't fit in that small house.
"Say something, Petey," Dog Man pleaded, his voice—though calm—shaking with a dull rage. "Tell me it’s a setup. Tell me that cat forced you. Tell me... tell me any lie, even a bad one. Just... don't stay like that."
Petey finally looked up. His eyes met Dog Man’s, and for a second, the immensity of the damage was mutual. Petey opened his mouth, but the only thing that could escape his lips, in a whisper that barely disturbed the air, was a word that was born dead:
"Sorry."
That word fell between them like a corpse. Dog Man closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, a sound that seemed to tear out the last of his soul. He ran a hand over his face, wiping away tears with a mechanical gesture of pure exhaustion. The day that had begun with the hope of an eternal future was ending in the basement of human misery.
"Sorry?..." Dog Man repeated with a bitter, lifeless laugh.
They exchanged few words after that. Dog Man, in one last corner of his mind, had wanted to believe it was all a nightmare—that the letter was from a madman, that the photos were fakes. But Petey’s silence and that "sorry" were proof enough to confirm everything.
Dog Man stood up with slow movements, as if every joint weighed a ton. He reached into his uniform pocket and pulled out a small, scarlet-red velvet box. He left it on the coffee table, right next to the photos of the betrayal.
"At least," Dog Man said, looking at the box with infinite contempt for his own hope, fighting back tears as if his life depended on it, "I found out before I did something stupid."
Without looking back, without a word of farewell, Dog Man turned and walked toward the back of the house, letting the shadows of the hallway swallow him as he tried to process that the home he had sworn to protect had just been torched from the inside.
Petey sat alone on the sofa. The only sound was the static hum of the television, still projecting colored lights onto his impassive face. With hands that no longer felt anything, Petey reached out and picked up the red box.
He opened it slowly.
Inside, a gold ring gleamed with a hurtful strength. Despite the darkness of the room, the metal caught the silver reflection of the moon coming through the window, shining like a lonely star in the middle of a dark sky. Petey looked at it for minutes, perhaps hours. He did not cry. His eyes—as anyone who saw him in that moment would notice—were dead. They were two pits of ash, exhausted by the weight of guilt, weary of so much faking, empty of any trace of the man who once dreamed of being worthy of that ring.
The shine of the gold in the darkness was the only thing left alive in that room. Petey closed the box with a sharp click, and the darkness consumed him once more.
👁️
Okey City woke up wrapped in an unusual peace. Thanks to the untiring efforts of the police and the sacrifice of officers like Dog Man, the streets were silent, businesses opened without fear, and crime seemed like a distant memory. It was an ironically perfect morning.
In the midst of that calm, a lone figure walked along the curb with an old suitcase that thudded rhythmically against his leg. It was Petey. He had left before the first ray of sunlight could touch the window, fleeing the weight of an air he could no longer breathe. There were no notes, no dramatic goodbyes. Only the sound of the door closing with a softness that hurt more than a slam.
In the house, the awakening was ice-cold.
Dog Man and Li'l Petey walked through the rooms, calling for a man who was no longer there. Li'l Petey, with that sharp intuition of children who have seen too much, stopped in front of his father’s empty closet. He didn't ask anything. He didn't cry. He simply walked to the sofa and sat down next to Dog Man.
The officer, the city’s hero, collapsed right there. He buried his face in his hands and, in front of his son, he broke. It was a silent weeping, a trembling that shook his broad shoulders, while Li'l Petey placed a small hand on his arm. The silence of the house was now the only inhabitant of that home.
...
Petey arrived at his destination: the old laboratory. An abandoned building, devoured by dust and the echoes of his old plans for conquest. It had been a long time since he had set foot there.
"You'll be fine, Petey. You've always been alone. This is who you are," he told himself with a voice that sounded like the living dead.
He went inside, and the hours began to bleed away, one after another.
By noon, Petey was lying on a rusted metal bed, staring at the ceiling beams. "Why couldn't I just be happy?" he asked himself. He remembered Li'l Petey’s laughter and Dog Man’s hand intertwined with his. The thought that he would never feel that warmth again sank him into a tide of regret.
By mid-afternoon, the regret turned into agony. Petey began to cry—not for the drama of it, but out of the sheer helplessness of not being able to change what had been done. His sobs bounced off the concrete walls. He cried for the betrayal, for the ring he left on the table, and for the dead look in Dog Man’s eyes.
As the sun set, the crying transformed into a blind rage. "He should have forgiven me! After everything I changed for him!" he screamed. He stood up and began to wreck what little remained in the lab, kicking boxes and screaming at the shadows. "It’s his fault for being so perfect! It’s the fault of this world that won't let me be anything but trash!" But when he finished, panting among the wreckage, he knew his anger was only a distraction. The only culprit lived inside his own skin.
Night arrived.
Petey was sitting at a wobbly table, illuminated by a naked, flickering lightbulb that threatened to leave him in total darkness. With mechanical movements, he ate directly from an expired can of tuna; the metallic, rancid taste was the only thing he could feel.
His eyes fixed on a smooth, white piece of paper he had taped to the wall in front of him. It was a page from the comics Li'l Petey had made, showing their beautiful family.
He set the can down, stood up, and with a sudden movement, ripped the paper away. He squeezed it with all his might in his fist, turning it into a deformed, crumpled ball. Then, with a painful slowness, he spread it out on the table again, smoothing it with the palms of his hands.
He looked at the paper. It was spread out, yes, but the wrinkle marks were permanent. The cracks in the paper formed a map of scars that no amount of pressure could ever erase.
"Nothing will ever be the same," Petey whispered to the empty room.
He stayed there, staring at the damaged paper.
👁️
For Petey, the laboratory was no longer a hiding place; it was a shroud. His days had dwindled into a routine that served only to keep him breathing. He only left when the hunger became unbearable, dragging his feet to the nearest store to buy the bare minimum, returning quickly to lock himself away and cry until his eyes burned.
He had begun to hurt himself. Not in a loud way, but in a silent one: marks on his arms, punching the walls, neglecting his health until his ribs began to show beneath his unkempt fur. He felt disgusted. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the glint of the ring under the moonlight and the look on Dog Man's face, and the revulsion forced him to punish himself all over again.
However, that morning, something changed.
Petey was lying on his grimy mattress when a small white flicker crossed the stale air. Through the broken window of the building, driven by a capricious breeze, a white flower petal drifted in. It floated with an elegance Petey no longer possessed and landed softly on his chest.
That tiny trace of purity was like a slap. Petey remembered the scent of fresh flowers; he remembered the only person who loved him before the world called him a villain. He stood up with clumsy movements. He bathed in ice-cold water, washing away weeks of filth and self-loathing. He shaved, combed his fur, and put on clean clothes. He didn't feel better, but at least he no longer looked like a corpse.
He left the laboratory and walked toward the city cemetery. Before entering, he bought a bouquet of white roses—a violent contrast to the gray of his soul.
The cemetery was silent, disturbed only by the whisper of the wind through the trees. Petey reached the grave of his mother, Grace. He knelt, carefully removed the dry, withered flowers left over from the previous month, and placed the fresh roses down.
"Hi, Mom," he whispered, his voice sounding small, like that of a frightened child. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I... I got a little lost."
Petey rested his forehead against the cold stone of the headstone and began to speak. He told her everything. He omitted nothing. He spoke of the home he had built, of Dog Man's light, of Li'l Petey's innocence... and of how he had shredded it all for a lapse he couldn't explain.
"I don't understand myself, Mom," he sobbed, tears beginning to stain the earth. "I thought I was finally someone good. I thought I had made it. But I became the monster everyone said I was again. Only this time, I hurt those who loved me most. I don't deserve to be here. I don't deserve to breathe this air. I was a coward, a traitor... how could I do that to him? It was just a moment, a stupid desire, but now it weighs more than my whole life. I can't live with this disgust, Mom. Take me with you, please..."
Petey’s weeping became harrowing, a lament that seemed to be born from the bottom of his lungs, breaking the peace of the churchyard.
"Papa?"
Petey went rigid. His heart gave such a violent jolt that he felt nauseous. He didn't dare turn around. He knew that voice. It was a voice he hadn't heard in weeks, a voice that populated both his nightmares and his most beautiful memories.
Slowly, he turned.
A few meters away, with a small backpack and wide eyes, was Li'l Petey. He looked exactly the same as the last day he had seen him. He was alone, holding a wildflower tightly in his small hand, looking at his broken father over their grandmother's grave.
"Li'l Petey!" Petey’s cry was a tear of relief.
He lunged toward his son, falling to his knees on the cemetery grass. He wrapped his arms around him with almost desperate strength. They cried together, a weeping that mixed Petey’s three weeks of loneliness with Li'l Petey's accumulated anguish.
After a few minutes, Petey pulled back slightly, holding his son by the shoulders as he nervously inspected him.
"What are you doing here? Why aren't you with Dog Man?" Petey asked, his heart racing.
"I ran away," the boy replied, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his sweater. "I had to find you."
"But how did you know...?"
"Papa..." Li'l Petey looked at him with a maturity that hurt Petey to see. "I know that when you're sad, you can only be in two places: either locked in your lab, or here, with Grandma Grace."
Petey was speechless. The excitement began to fade, giving way to a bittersweet calm. They sat for a moment on the edge of the grave. Li'l Petey, with the sincerity only a child possesses, began to confront his father.
"He’s been very sad, Papa. Very, very sad," Li'l Petey said, looking at his own feet. "He took all the vacation time he had. He stays at home, cleans, plays with me... but sometimes he just stares at nothing."
Petey lowered his head, clenching his fists.
"But he’s okay," the boy continued, searching for his father's eyes. "He’s strong. He has a lot of friends... and he has me. He’s not crying all the time anymore."
Those words were both a balm and a dagger. Petey felt relief knowing that Dog Man hadn't completely fallen apart, but also a sting of jealousy and sadness: Dog Man was learning to live without him. The world kept turning, and Dog Man was finding his center while Petey was still sinking into the mire of his own guilt.
They spent a couple of hours talking in the silence of the cemetery until the sun began to set. Petey knew what he had to do, but he was so afraid.
He hoisted Li'l Petey onto his shoulders, just as he used to do in the days when they seemed like a happy family. They walked through the streets of Okey City, the light weight of the child on his neck giving him a strength he didn't know he had. Every step toward Dog Man’s house was a struggle against his instinct to flee.
They arrived at the wooden door. The house looked the same, but to Petey, it was a forbidden sanctuary. He froze a few steps from the entrance.
"Come on, Papa. You can do it," Li'l Petey whispered from his shoulders, giving him a gentle tap on the head.
Li'l Petey climbed down and, seeing that his father wouldn't move, it was he who reached out and knocked on the door.
Knock, knock.
The sound echoed in Petey’s ears like a cannon blast. Seconds later, footsteps were heard. The lock turned and the door opened.
There was Dog Man. He wasn't in uniform; he wore a simple gray t-shirt and comfortable pants. He looked more rested than the last time, but his eyes held a depth of sadness that rest could not erase.
His eyes ignored Petey at first, fixing with playful severity on the little one.
"Do these seem like appropriate hours to arrive, young man?" Dog Man said, crossing his arms, though his voice betrayed the relief of seeing him safe. "You gave me the scare of my life. You can't just leave without telling me. I was just about to head out to look for you."
"I had to bring Papa home," Li'l Petey replied firmly.
Dog Man went silent. Slowly, as if it took a superhuman physical effort, he raised his gaze to Petey. For a second that seemed to last an eternity, the two of them looked at each other. There were no shouts, only the weight of weeks of absence and a betrayal that still floated in the air like ash.
Dog Man sighed and put a hand on Li'l Petey's shoulder.
"Go inside, champ. Go wash your hands for dinner."
Li'l Petey looked at Petey, then at Dog Man, and nodded. He ran into the house, leaving the two adults alone on the threshold under the porch light.
Dog Man took a step forward, partially closing the door behind him but staying outside. He stood there, looking at Petey, waiting.
"We need to talk," Dog Man said, and his voice, though steady, cut through the air like a knife.
They walked a few steps toward the side yard, where Dog Man and Li'l Petey had built a wooden swing set during Petey's absence. The smell of sawdust and fresh paint still floated in the air—a silent reminder that life had continued without him. They sat there, under the starlight, on a swing that creaked softly under their weight.
Dog Man was the first to break the silence. His voice was flat, devoid of the warmth of old.
"I'm better now, Petey. I don't want to hear you say sorry again. Regrets aren't going to fix things," Dog Man said, looking out toward the street. "The truth is, it hurts to see you. I really can't stand having you near; every time I look at you, I remember the photos, the letter... I remember it as if it were yesterday."
Petey looked down, feeling the air escape him.
"But," the officer continued, sighing, "I can't hate you all the time. It’s not healthy for me, and it’s not fair to Li'l Petey to see me crying every night. He deserves a father, not a wreck."
They talked for a while longer—a conversation about Li'l Petey and the future—until Dog Man asked the question he had been keeping in the deepest part of his chest. His voice cracked just a millimeter, but it was enough for Petey to notice.
"Why did you do it, Petey?"
Petey squeezed the ropes of the swing until his palms burned.
"I can't find a reason," Petey replied, his voice a thread of raw honesty. "I was weak, Dog Man. I was just weak. I let myself be carried away by my impulses. And this vacuum, this pain now... is what I have to pay. I lost you."
In a burst of anguish, Petey tried to stand, but his legs failed and he fell from the swing. Dog Man, out of pure instinct, lunged to help him. He caught him by the waist, lifting him from the ground, and for an instant, they were suspended in time. They were so close their breaths mingled; the heat from their faces burned. For a second, the world seemed to offer them a way back, a kiss, a reconciliation... but Dog Man stopped. His eyes, though full of love, were clouded by an invisible barrier.
There was no kiss. Dog Man only helped him steady himself and, with a respectful distance, guided him toward the house.
Dinner was an act of courtesy. Li'l Petey ate happily, looking at both his parents at the same table, not fully understanding that the bridge between them had fallen forever. When they finished, Petey went up to the second floor to say goodbye to the boy. He tucked him in with a tenderness that tore at his soul and kissed his forehead.
"Goodnight, champ," Petey whispered, knowing he wouldn't wake up in that house the next morning.
He walked down the stairs, holding back tears, and found Dog Man standing by the front door.
"Forgive me, Petey," Dog Man said, looking at him intently, "for not being able to forgive you. I’d love to tell you that everything can go back to how it was, that we could be friends, but I don't trust you anymore. I love you, Petey... but I don't trust you."
Petey nodded, tears blurring his vision.
They said goodbye with a short hug—a contact that felt like a final departure. Petey crossed the threshold and heard the click of the lock.
The house sat exposed in its shared loneliness.
Upstairs, Li'l Petey slept soundly, dreaming of a tomorrow that would no longer exist. In the living room, Dog Man sat on the sofa, hiding his face in his hands and sobbing silently. He had been honest: it hurt. It hurt to let him go, it hurt to love him, and it hurt to be in a house that now felt too big for him.
And outside, on the cold street of Okey City, Petey walked toward his laboratory. He was hurting, terribly broken, but as he moved away, a small spark of clarity shone in his mind. He understood something.
"If there is one thing I can do," Petey said to himself, looking back at Dog Man’s house one last time, "it's not to disturb him anymore. I'll let him heal. I'll let him grow, develop, be happy... even if that doesn't include me."
Petey vanished into the darkness of the night, leaving behind everything he loved, knowing that for the first time in a long time, he was doing the right thing.
"I love you, Dog Man..."
But no one answered Petey's call.
And that.
That was okay.