full
“Hunter on the Shelves” by Leuna
A deer living in the inner workings of a massive mobile platform struggles to adjust to his life, and a strange turn of events.
Today’s story is “Hunter on the Shelves” by Leuna, who works as an essayist and is now writing short fiction, and you can find more of her stories on her FurAffinity.
Read for you by Rob MacWolf — werewolf hitchhiker.
thevoice.dog | Apple podcasts | Spotify | Google Podcasts
If you have a story you think would be a good fit, you can check out the requirements, fill out the submission template and get in touch with us.
https://thevoice.dog/episode/hunter-on-the-shelves-by-leuna
Transcript
You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.
Speaker:This is Rob MacWolf, your fellow traveler,
Speaker:and Today’s story is
Speaker:“Hunter on the Shelves”
Speaker:by Leuna, who works as an essayist and is now writing short fiction,
Speaker:and you can find more of her stories
Speaker:on her FurAffinity.
Speaker:Please enjoy “Hunter on the Shelves”
Speaker:by Leuna “Everyone-”
Speaker:“Goes through this, yeah, I know.”
Speaker:I know enough to not sound too bitter,
Speaker:years of listening to my uncle’s attempts at…
Speaker:whatever he’d call this?
Speaker:Peacekeeping. An unsteady truce after my dad moved up.
Speaker:Uncle Ren was a calm man, working in maintenance on the Block.
Speaker:It’s seemingly mindless enough work, considering how often he texts me during the day,
Speaker:hoping that I’m keeping up with the “garden” he’s grown so obstinately proud of over the past two years since I moved in.
Speaker:I hadn’t the heart to tell him
Speaker:what hell I wrought upon the rosemary and basil plants I had in the loft,
Speaker:when I was at school in the Basin.
Speaker:“You know what I mean, kid.
Speaker:This heady shit’s going on in everyone.
Speaker:Why am I alive? Am I embarrassing myself?
Speaker:Am I a phony-“ “It’s not…
Speaker:it’s nothing.” My left ear starts to twitch,
Speaker:a nervous habit. Uncle Ren has something more to say, and it’s obvious,
Speaker:but he simply moves into the tiny kitchen area, picking through the Tupperware loaded into our cramped fridge.
Speaker:“Kid, you’re not some kind of freak.”
Speaker:“I know.” “Gwen, she-“ he stops himself from going farther,
Speaker:almost immediately realizing his mistake in bringing her up,
Speaker:while outing that he has been thinking about that e-mail still.
Speaker:“It’s fine. I’m gonna go to my room.
Speaker:Let me know when it’s time for dinner?”
Speaker:I don’t wait around for an answer though,
Speaker:and soon enough I’m negotiating the narrow hallway separating mine and his room,
Speaker:including a small bathroom with a standing shower.
Speaker:The door always creaks obnoxiously,
Speaker:always punctuating my late night escapades, always giving him ammunition
Speaker:should our usual fights go south. I head
Speaker:into my door and almost immediately knock my antlers into the door frame with a thrash. “Fuck
Speaker:-“ I kind of pull myself into my room abruptly after that,
Speaker:fearing a prying eye and Uncle Ren’s seemingly unconquerable desire to try and be a real parent with me,
Speaker:something he clearly yearns to be but can only come off as insulting to a deer in his twenties.
Speaker:Stumbling into my room I lay my bag down,
Speaker:which only held a laptop,
Speaker:the final parting gift my father got me,
Speaker:now two years old, and optimized for office work.
Speaker:Hardly a gaming powerhouse, but it was good to have handy.
Speaker:The bed gives an ungodly creak as I lay down, a hand reflexively rubbing the nub of the antler that had collided headlong with the frame.
Speaker:It always gets like this,
Speaker:the clawing urge to sneak into the bathroom.
Speaker:It used to be, back with my dad,
Speaker:I’d creep into the bathroom with a steak knife I had secreted away under the pretense of “losing it.”
Speaker:I can still taste the way the air grew dusty.
Speaker:And like, warm? Humid and gritty,
Speaker:it stuck in my nose and…
Speaker:and… — “Breathe, Henry, everyone goes through this.”
Speaker:My dad’s voice was steady,
Speaker:patient as he tried to handle what must have looked like a very shell shocked teenage me.
Speaker:Staring blankly in the mirror as the thick, blocky set I had grown, my very first,
Speaker:lay pathetically in my hands,
Speaker:blood running down my face with my dad steadily wiping it from my eyes,
Speaker:dabbing his paper towel in water before wiping my fur down in careful, considered strokes.
Speaker:“This is perfectly natural, everyone goes through this, you’re gonna be fine…”
Speaker:on and on, he was nervous.
Speaker:I can see that now so clearly!
Speaker:He wanted to get me through this, worried about the transfixed expression on my face as he kept trying to clean up,
Speaker:but… all I was thinking off at the time was
Speaker:how it looked, the way the
Speaker:blood had run along my face, one stream
Speaker:perfectly moving around the inside of my eye,
Speaker:down my muzzle a little before tapering off. There’s
Speaker:a contrast too,
Speaker:my pale, gray-ish fur highlighting the almost shockingly deep red.
Speaker:I think about that one anime, with the one river otter.
Speaker:He had like, medicine in the hilt of his katana,
Speaker:because head wounds always bleed a lot.
Speaker:I remember seeing my face crack just a small twitch of a smile.
Speaker:“You’re going to grow into a really regal set, I can see it.” – Ugh,
Speaker:I keep rubbing it. It’s been…
Speaker:how long? My phone gives a small buzz on the table, but I breeze past it. I don’t need to see right now.
Speaker:The bed gives an angry creak and groan as I pull myself up abruptly. Fine.
Speaker:Fine. I try and open the door quietly,
Speaker:get to the bathroom, I have a file there and-
Speaker:“Where are you off to-”
Speaker:Ren’s voice from the kitchen.
Speaker:It takes a moment before I realize the gentle smell of leftover chile
Speaker:coming from there. “Oh,
Speaker:uh. We’re out of cheese,
Speaker:I was gonna get some.”
Speaker:I guess, hoping to be right.
Speaker:Ren shrugs. “Eh, you know what?
Speaker:There’s a big thing going on at work the next few days, I’ll be working overtime…
Speaker:get us something nice, yeah?”
Speaker:He looks at the chile he’s heating up in the big pot,
Speaker:and I wonder if he knows I usually go on these trips to the Quikskit or even up to the Pawmart on 34
Speaker:to harbor snacks in my room,
Speaker:usually sweets… more usually drinks.
Speaker:“Maybe an avocado? It’ll be nice to have.”
Speaker:I have no choice and I grab one of the old plastic bags in the big bag of plastic bags,
Speaker:even taking a moment to sort through and pick a rare blue one.
Speaker:I’ve never found out where he gets the blue ones.
Speaker:It’s never easy to tell at a glance what time of day it is this deep on 40,
Speaker:and it gets worse when I round the corner of F9, about two blocks from the house,
Speaker:when I realize I’ve left my phone behind.
Speaker:I curse, checking my pockets to see if
Speaker:I have something on me, or if I’ll have to go back for cash.
Speaker:Mercifully, there’s a note in my pants, crumpled up, it reveals the face of a stately looking, dignified lupine man in profile.
Speaker:That’s gotta be a 50, right?
Speaker:Enough, though I could probably only sneak in something for myself, if I drink it on the way back.
Speaker:It takes a moment to click why I’m so antsy,
Speaker:scanning the interior scaffolding looming near the center of this platform.
Speaker:The Upper Shelves used to be full of workers,
Speaker:engineers, construction, labor,
Speaker:there were even lodgings here,
Speaker:all to make this Block.
Speaker:That was… long ago,
Speaker:as far as anyone’s told me.
Speaker:There’s not even really a school here, we have to commute out, usually to the Basin. …
Speaker:I hear the sound of my hooves echoing, each distinctly metal tone reverberating up along the intricate web of gray steel,
Speaker:scaling up along the heart of this beast.
Speaker:Loose chains making up
Speaker:impromptu fencing, blocking off areas, or carelessly draped along the edges give the impression of silken strands
Speaker:lingering off of it like tassels, like how my dad used to drape over our old Christmas Tree.
Speaker:It always looked like someone had
Speaker:covered the tree in silver,
Speaker:like they were trying to hide how
Speaker:clearly artificial it was underneath the spotty lights and cheap baubles.
Speaker:Here though, the chains barely move, there’s no real wind that
Speaker:travels far into the Shelves like this, not this deep.
Speaker:But this line of thought, the echoing,
Speaker:clopping steps,
Speaker:get momentarily warped around a
Speaker:howling, cavernous echo,
Speaker:reverberating around,
Speaker:the memory of a gust of wind
Speaker:washing over the face of the Block.
Speaker:Is it really that late?
Speaker:Usually some folks are milling about, on their way to or from something,
Speaker:thick coats as the spring slowly creeps onto the earth. It, like everything about the Shelves,
Speaker:comes to us much later than everywhere else,
Speaker:dully heating up the frigid metal heart.
Speaker:I bristle, thinking about it alone suddenly made me very aware of how rushed I was, still
Speaker:just in my jeans and light blue polo shirt.
Speaker:I. Fucking. Hate. This stupid shirt.
Speaker:It’s uncomfortably tight,
Speaker:and while I’m not terribly overweight, it rides up for no reason all the time.
Speaker:There’s nothing I can do to deal with how tight the collar is around my neck like this, even fully unbuttoned the big…
Speaker:flap… parts? Those things always ride up close along my neck,
Speaker:I always feel self conscious,
Speaker:misshapen in this shirt, but it
Speaker:serves as an important reminder to do my laundry.
Speaker:Right, I need to do that too.
Speaker:My ear is twitching again.
Speaker:This silence is… weird.
Speaker:Unsettling to feel as I make it to the lift. If I remembered my phone, I could put my pods in and not have to
Speaker:focus on it, but it’s almost
Speaker:drowning, carving out a pit in my stomach, like everyone had gotten out of their houses and left town at once.
Speaker:This is why I need something.
Speaker:Music, or a phone to look at, or-
Speaker:“Ah-!” I almost jump out of my fur when I see the diminutive canine, some…
Speaker:some kind of terrier, I think, tucked away in the corner.
Speaker:He glances at me briefly and then immediately away,
Speaker:like I was of no interest to him.
Speaker:I kind of mumbled out an apology, but even that doesn’t warrant…
Speaker:anything at all from him.
Speaker:No glance, or nod, or grunt.
Speaker:He has one hand inside his tan jacket, the other in his jean pocket.
Speaker:I can’t help but notice thick, heavy boots on him.
Speaker:I shuffle awkwardly,
Speaker:hooves clacking along the floor of the lift.
Speaker:I look away, knowing in the back of my head that he likely hasn’t noticed,
Speaker:and also likely would not care if he did.
Speaker:It’s a feeling not unfamiliar in the Shelves. No one really ends up here because they’re doing great,
Speaker:many struggling families and small incomes force people here, a bulk of them hired to maintain the Block,
Speaker:in case it ever needs to be moved again.
Speaker:An important part of the Capital’s infrastructure,
Speaker:as they say, is being able to connect people from across the cavernous valleys that pockmark the earth.
Speaker:I remember my grandfather used to call it the East Block,
Speaker:but no one seems to have an answer
Speaker:to what has happened to the others,
Speaker:or even how many others there are. It’s just the Block now,
Speaker:divided in half, the Upper Shelves taking up
Speaker:Levels 2 through 45,
Speaker:and the Guts from 46 to 50, ground floor.
Speaker:Each floor of the Shelves is laid out in a 26x26 grid,
Speaker:with many patches of that groundwork
Speaker:negotiating around the heart at the center,
Speaker:locking off the middle cluster of blocks,
Speaker:10-17 and J
Speaker:-P on every floor. I keep myself busy,
Speaker:trying to push my hands into my jeans,
Speaker:rushing off of the lift on 38, where a smaller,
Speaker:more off-the-beaten path market strip was laid out nearby.
Speaker:I’m leaving, my clacking hoofsteps punctuated by heavy boots.
Speaker:He.. that terrier was getting off on the same floor.
Speaker:I walk quicker, chancing a glance back, but he’s gone already, taking a different path.
Speaker:I try not to linger on it,
Speaker:instead taking the opportunity to busy myself in the dull neon that washes through 7th Street.
Speaker:This was no Floor 34 Market, of course.
Speaker:A lot of effort was put into that,
Speaker:some meager diners,
Speaker:a real grocery store,
Speaker:rumors have it that people as far as floor 12
Speaker:come down to shop there.
Speaker:7th Street on 38 is less bathed in artificial light, but simmering in it, a duller,
Speaker:rosier glow, many storefronts are simple,
Speaker:no neon signs at all, just the name and a glass window,
Speaker:the produce stand already closed up–it
Speaker:must be later than I thought–but
Speaker:the Quikskit was open, of course.
Speaker:I have half a mind to consider those milkshakes,
Speaker:something of a trademark of these little shops, until my eye
Speaker:catches one of the pinker,
Speaker:more seductive signs. Aphrodite’s Heart,
Speaker:The Breaking of Artemis,
Speaker:Apollo’s Secrets, it was so gaudy, these
Speaker:little nightclubs take up the bulk of the market down here,
Speaker:when they aren’t the crass ones with juvenile puns in their names.
Speaker:It… it is weird to see so many trying desperately to cash in on the mythological status of Pandora’s Box.
Speaker:I never understood it myself–I
Speaker:mean I always thought the point was that it had no physical location?
Speaker:It’s one of those bizarre rumors that spread like wildfire back in school,
Speaker:people bragging about
Speaker:really being able to visit it the night before and the like…
Speaker:By this time my mind feels like it’s racing, and the AC in the Quikskit was enough to pull me out of my stupor.
Speaker:It was definitely colder than it needed to be,
Speaker:enough to warrant a side-eye to the big bear lady at the front, leaning back against the wall where they kept the cigarettes, clearly asleep.
Speaker:I find a pack of shredded cheese,
Speaker:get one of those milkshakes into the machine, opting for mint chocolate, and then
Speaker:peeking around the pre-made section, seeing if there’s one of those avocado packs,
Speaker:diced, mashed, something, anything really.
Speaker:I need to burn time as the machine does…
Speaker:what does it even do in there?
Speaker:Add milk, I figure, and like…
Speaker:melt it a little?
Speaker:The whirring noise alerts the bear lady at the desk, who’s sizing me up like a meal–er,
Speaker:no. Just… regularly, right? And why not? I’m 24 and getting a mint chocolate milkshake at uh…
Speaker:uh… “Do you have the time?”
Speaker:I find myself asking,
Speaker:rubbing my head fur a little,
Speaker:trying to neatly dodge around my antlers.
Speaker:I had been growing it out for a few years now.
Speaker:I… don’t know what I’m looking for in it,
Speaker:hoping it would frame my face better,
Speaker:or draw away from the antlers,
Speaker:or- “...Don’t you kids have phones for that?”
Speaker:Her mildly amused grin offsets the gruff tone.
Speaker:Har har. “I left it…” “...Half-past 7.
Speaker:Lucky the day’s getting longer, White-tail.”
Speaker:I give a quick nod and turn away before she catches me rolling my eyes.
Speaker:As if I didn’t need more shit piled into my brain.
Speaker:I slink away quickly into an aisle,
Speaker:pretending to look for…
Speaker:nail files, by the looks of it.
Speaker:I swallow reflexively,
Speaker:the feeling of my own dust returning to me like a phantom.
Speaker:Luckily, the whirring stops, I’m free, released from this bizarre tension.
Speaker:I double check my money and grab a Blue Moon from the back for Uncle Ren. Just enough.
Speaker:I peek around the corner of the aisle,
Speaker:just to see if the bear lady’s still looking at me,
Speaker:but she’s asleep again.
Speaker:I can’t resist the urge to craft a pretty tasteless remark about bears and their hibernation,
Speaker:something something even that’s delayed in the Shelves or something?
Speaker:My train of thought gets a little diverted, though, as she seems to scowl,
Speaker:a low growl gently bubbles out from her muzzle,
Speaker:her paw gripping her left wrist reflexively…
Speaker:then suddenly retracting from it,
Speaker:like it was pulled away.
Speaker:A whine comes up from her next,
Speaker:something unnatural.
Speaker:I’ve gotten closer,
Speaker:pulling the milkshake from the machine.
Speaker:She… she’s kind of thrashing a little
Speaker:against the glass
Speaker:display case. “Uh… miss-”
Speaker:I get cut off as she lurches hard,
Speaker:elbow cracking through the glass behind
Speaker:her. I can see, even from here,
Speaker:shards of glass embedding into her pelt.
Speaker:It probably won’t hurt her right away, but she’s going to have to pick that out soon before it gets in too deep.
Speaker:“Miss?!” I blurt out louder,
Speaker:reaching out to try and shake her awake,
Speaker:but her eyes snap open a moment before I make contact. “Nh?! Wh! You…” She grumbled, looking at her wrist, instead of her glass-riddled arm.
Speaker:I see… What did I see?
Speaker:Gold leaves, like a mark in her fur,
Speaker:delicate, I’ve seen that pattern,
Speaker:usually something cheekily worked into one of those gaudy night clubs outside.
Speaker:I… know I shouldn’t say a damn thing,
Speaker:quickly laying out the 50 and my groceries onto the counter.
Speaker:She’s definitely seen me,
Speaker:definitely saw me seeing her tattoo(?),
Speaker:and without even giving me room to explain I brought my own bag, she dumped everything haphazardly into one of the white bags this place stocks.
Speaker:I don’t even try to ask for change,
Speaker:instead rushing out
Speaker:once my eyes ended up meeting her own.
Speaker:That wild panic, was she having some kind of nightmare?
Speaker:I left in a hurry, and for a moment, I’m met outside with the sign for Aphrodite’s Heart.
Speaker:That gold leaf pattern.
Speaker:It’s there, on the corner of the red-soaked storefront window.
Speaker:I can feel the gears in my head turning,
Speaker:luring me down a line of thought I genuinely do not want to consider.
Speaker:I bail out, running down 7th Street, past the lift, past C Street, then B…
Speaker:then I see it. The sky.
Speaker:It felt warmer here already,
Speaker:looking into the sunset.
Speaker:Rich, thick red light smeared along the chemically soaked horizon,
Speaker:diluting it into oranges,
Speaker:and further still mingling with the dark blue of the oncoming night into heavy ribbons of purple.
Speaker:A giant, world encompassing oil painting splotched along the sky,
Speaker:the sun set low enough that my eyes barely strain looking at it.
Speaker:I take a moment to glance along the Shelves,
Speaker:seeing the light dancing along the otherwise dull grays stained with black grease marks,
Speaker:the light dancing along the precarious puddles of water here and there,
Speaker:a more common occurrence this close to the ledge,
Speaker:all of whom inevitably bloom in slick rainbows.
Speaker:I clutch my shake in hand, watching the sky for a moment longer, tracing it down into the Valley,
Speaker:saturating the sand and dirt below into rich ambers.
Speaker:It feels good to walk out there,
Speaker:to feel the slight give of the earth again.
Speaker:I miss Basin. I miss those miserable
Speaker:classes, I miss Theodore Raines, the plucky badger who insists
Speaker:he had his first taste of sangria at Pandora’s Box and got the recipe for it there too.
Speaker:I feel the weight of that soulless letter from Gwen,
Speaker:Gwen of all people. –
Speaker:“It will only be for a little bit.
Speaker:We just need to get our ground under us up there,
Speaker:and we’ll be able to come back for you.”
Speaker:My dad had his hand on my shoulder then.
Speaker:I would’ve ripped my own shoulder off my body to not have to feel it.
Speaker:His warmth, the familiar weight he put on me like this felt
Speaker:tainted. I could see Gwen in the periphery,
Speaker:head fur all frizzy,
Speaker:framing her along with her very round glasses, the little slip of a sheep.
Speaker:“Jeremy, it’s time.” “Hey…
Speaker:just a little while.
Speaker:I promise.” – And after that he hadn’t even had the decency to contact me himself.
Speaker:Just boarded his kid into the Shelves and ran off to the Sky Pagoda with his new wife,
Speaker:his new life, and two years go by and all I get is a letter from Gwen.
Speaker:It’s been too busy, too hectic,
Speaker:it’s been beautiful,
Speaker:we’re excited to move you in.
Speaker:Just a little longer and you’ll have fresh air, a real garden, a real room.
Speaker:Your father misses you… –
Speaker:And then a howl. A very specific kind of howl,
Speaker:a lament. Pain. I almost drop my drink and the bag off the edge. I turn to see where it came from,
Speaker:panic burrowing itself into my guts, legs tensing, ready to hightail,
Speaker:and a sound, something kind of… awkward?
Speaker:Muted? My ear twitches,
Speaker:but it’s met with another overwhelming howl.
Speaker:I’m moving before I know what I’m doing, moving more, faster, faster and faster.
Speaker:Closer? Further? I have no idea.
Speaker:I’m clutching my dumb drink tight enough the plastic cup is warping,
Speaker:threatening to bend into itself and gush green shake all over.
Speaker:I move, round another block–fuck, I need to get to the other one,
Speaker:turn around, this isn’t where the lift is–is the
Speaker:lift going to be safe?
Speaker:I could take the ladder–should I take the ladder?
Speaker:It’s only two floors… unless it… was…
Speaker:I trail off, my mind slowly piecing together what I’m seeing.
Speaker:A wolf. Right? He looks… broken,
Speaker:letting out a choked whine, just…
Speaker:pain, soaked through his warbling voice.
Speaker:He’s… holding something?
Speaker:Dark gray fur was stained red.
Speaker:Blood. I could smell it, the lightly metallic tinge of it nearly drowned out in the Shelves, but staring at it helps to differentiate it.
Speaker:He… he’s bleeding.
Speaker:On the floor, gasping for breath.
Speaker:“You… y-you…” Is this all I can say?
Speaker:I’m dumbfounded, watching the blood stain his paw,
Speaker:his black jacket slick,
Speaker:messy. He looks at me.
Speaker:Blue. Blue eyes, almost painfully bright. “G
Speaker:-go!” He manages to pull out of his rapidly collapsing body.
Speaker:“I… I should get someone.
Speaker:Call-” fuck, fuck my phone-
Speaker:“Get… t-the fuck… away!”
Speaker:“You’re hurt-” “GO!” He snarls
Speaker:and growls at me
Speaker:and lumbers forward.
Speaker:I see only for a second a little hint of gold splattered on his left wrist as he lurches forward,
Speaker:demonstrating two holes in his chest, blood flowing like wine,
Speaker:his shirt’s original color indistinguishable, but it’s enough.
Speaker:He’s baring fangs,
Speaker:heavy paws, my body reacts,
Speaker:dropping the shake and running, madly,
Speaker:reflexively. I hear another howl rock through my body as I run and run.
Speaker:I… he was holding something.
Speaker:But I can’t piece it together. …
Speaker:I’m at the lift before I can calm down.
Speaker:I feel it lower, I look back at the corner the terrier was once, but there’s no one.
Speaker:Just me. I clutch the bag with one hand,
Speaker:rubbing the other up my face,
Speaker:tracing along the inner bend around my eyes, like I’m trying to find or… or
Speaker:feel something. That howl had sucked sound out of my ears. The route mechanics of the lift moving barely process in my head as noise until it hits 40.
Speaker:I have to… get off.
Speaker:I have to go home.
Speaker:I have to sit down and have dinner and water the herbs.
Speaker:It feels like the world is moving without me,
Speaker:piloting me wordlessly to my house.
Speaker:Uncle Ren is there,
Speaker:two bowls ready to eat.
Speaker:I look at him, hoping that I could psychically beam what happened into his head, but at the first sign of concern-
Speaker:“Sorry it t-took so long.
Speaker:The sunset’s really nice tonight.”
Speaker:Lots of red. “I was getting worried, kid.
Speaker:You okay?” “I… yeah.
Speaker:I am. I just-” fuck, there’s a small waver-
Speaker:“I miss the Basin.”
Speaker:It’s the wrong thing to say.
Speaker:Uncle Ren’s expression falls. He gives a small nod
Speaker:and leans back on our tiny couch.
Speaker:I want to tell him that… it’s not his fault, or something to make it right, but I can’t speak.
Speaker:Not after this. I just.
Speaker:I pass him his beer,
Speaker:we divide our cheese and avocado in silence,
Speaker:until he puts on a show he’s been chewing through. It’s about the end of the world, he insists it’s surprisingly hopeful.
Speaker:I feel nothing seeing the main character begging to be let into this coyote’s house.
Speaker:He’s holding a little mink,
Speaker:just a girl still.
Speaker:I have to get through this.
Speaker:Everyone goes through this.
Speaker:Everyone goes through this.
Speaker:This was “Hunter on the Shelves” by Leuna,
Speaker:read for you by READER, with
Speaker:CALLSIGN.
Speaker:You can find more stories on the web
Speaker:at thevoice.dog,
Speaker:or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.
Speaker:Thank you for listening
Speaker:to The Voice of Dog.
