It’s two in the morning. It’s dark. Your dog, sleeping peacefully at the foot of your bed when you turned out your side lamp, rustles you awake with a shake of its head and a flapping of its ears. He’s not barking, but he’s sniffing at the closed door of your bedroom.
You grab your pistol from the side table, make sure it’s loaded, and creep to the door. You open the door and follow right behind your dog, who peels off in the dark.