"You're waiting for me?" Logan asked, looking into the dog's eyes.
The dog simply stared at him without making a sound.
Casually, Logan put the bike back into his storage space. There was no need to hide anything from a dog. Still, he instinctively glanced at the dog's reaction.
The dog tilted its head slightly, its heterochromatic eyes filled with a hint of curiosity as if it couldn't understand how Logan's hand made the bike disappear.
The sight of such a large dog making that expression was oddly amusing and showed just how intelligent the dog was.
Logan had once considered raising a sled dog, but after his storage burned down, and the sled got destroyed, he had given up on the idea.
Dogs can't speak, they won't expose secrets, and they won't betray you.
Though Logan had never owned a dog before, he had heard about the loyalty dogs have to their owners. Maybe this dog would be a good choice after all?
Logan took a few steps toward the dog to test the waters.
The dog stood up and took a step back, looking a bit uneasy.
He immediately stopped, feeling a bit disappointed.
This dog was clearly a stray, possibly abandoned or mistreated. It wasn't surprising that it didn't like people getting too close.
If it couldn't accept him, Logan wouldn't force it.
Remembering that he had found a container full of pet supplies at the port the day before, Logan casually pulled a bag of dog food out of his storage and placed it in front of the dog.
"Here, something to eat. You can leave now."
He walked around the dog and headed for the door.
After taking just a few steps, he felt a familiar gaze following him.
Turning around, Logan saw the dog holding the bag of dog food in its mouth, gazing at him expectantly.
His eyes flashed as a thought crossed his mind, and he asked:
"Was it you watching me in the woods last time?"
Logan laughed at himself after asking. How could a dog understand what he was saying?
However, the dog surprised him by putting down the bag of food and opening its mouth:
"Woof!"
"Really? You want to come home with me?" Logan asked, still doubtful.
"Woof!"
The dog held the food again and took a few tentative steps toward Logan, pausing to gauge his reaction, as if making sure Logan wasn't upset by its approach.
Finally, the dog slowly walked up to Logan, lay down at his feet, and cautiously wagged its tail, looking up at him.
At this point, Logan no longer doubted that the dog could understand him.
He bent down, reaching out to touch the dog's head.
The dog flinched slightly, instinctively wanting to pull away, but in the end, it remained still, allowing Logan to pat its head.
Its reactions clearly showed a deep-seated wariness of human contact.
Logan understood that if he hadn't saved the dog's life by chance, it wouldn't have accepted him so easily due to its distrust of people.
"Looks like we're meant to be," Logan said with a smile, locking eyes with the dog's unusual eyes. He spoke sincerely:
"Let's go home. From now on, it's just you and me."
The dog looked up at him, seeming to silently agree.
Back at the safe house, Logan inspected the dog's wounds.
It was badly injured, with patches of fur missing, exposing bloody, raw flesh. Most of the injuries were fresh and still oozing blood.
Some of the wounds were hidden beneath the dog's filthy, matted fur. Logan hadn't noticed just how badly hurt the dog was until he examined it up close.
Yet despite its condition, the dog had charged at someone without hesitation.
"You're one tough dog," Logan said with a note of helplessness in his voice.
If the wounds weren't treated, the dog would likely die from infection in a few days.
Logan could only hope there were no internal injuries.
"I'm going to treat your wounds now. I'll have to shave your fur, and it might hurt. You'll need to endure it."
The dog remained still, showing no reaction, so Logan took out disinfectant, clippers, bandages, and other medical supplies from his storage space.
He started treating the wounds.
He shaved the fur, disinfected the cuts, stitched them up, applied medicine, and bandaged the dog.
The entire process took more than three hours, and Logan finished by giving the dog a half-dose of antibiotics.
Throughout it all, the dog stayed completely quiet, not once struggling or growling, even though Logan hadn't used any anesthesia.
"You really are tough."
The dog didn't make a sound, even though Logan's touch was anything but gentle.
Logan patted the dog's head and covered it with a blanket.
Because the dog was so filthy and its fur was matted, Logan had shaved it all off, leaving it completely hairless.
Now, the dog looked a bit ridiculous, its skinny frame exposed, ribs clearly visible beneath its skin.
As the temperature continued to drop, Logan lit a heater, warming the room quickly.
After cleaning up the mess, Logan began preparing lunch.
As he walked into the kitchen, the dog quietly followed, lying down at his feet.
"You've had stitches; you shouldn't be moving around. Go back to the living room."
The dog lowered its tail and obediently walked away.
"Oh, Alright. I should probably give you a name," Logan thought aloud.
He had never had a pet before, largely because his mother hated animals, especially the mess they made with their fur.
Hearing Logan mention a name, the dog stopped in its tracks, looking at him expectantly.
"Let's see…"
Logan looked at the bald, bandaged dog in front of him and fell into deep thought.
"How about... Platter?"
"Tough Guy?"
"Blue-Red?"
The dog's face visibly drooped in disappointment.
"Haha! Just kidding!"
With a new companion, Logan couldn't help but talk more.
"How about Max Knight?"
"Woof!"
"Max Knight?"
"Woof!"
"Max Knight!"
"Woof!"
...
Lunch consisted of plenty of meat, and after discovering that the Max Knight preferred raw meat, Logan took out a large slab of raw beef for him from his storage.
After a hearty meal, both man and dog were resting when there was a sudden noise outside.
Bang, bang, bang! Bang! Bang, bang!
Someone was pounding on the door.