She Poisoned My Dog, I Left

My dog almost died. My wife was responsible. Life's been a ride, starting with Max, my golden retriever.

He's not just a dog; he's my late mom's legacy, my anchor. My wife,

Sarah, never got him. She complained constantly: hair, 'dog smell,' how

he hogged my attention, especially after Mom passed. One evening, after Sarah fed

Max dinner, he got super weird: lethargic, stumbling – totally unlike him.

A cold dread hit. Sarah had been almost too eager to feed him. I checked his bowl.

Faint chemical odor. Then I saw it: a tiny, suspicious pill fragment near the

kibble. Panic hit me like a truck. I scooped Max up and tore to the