No bowl.
And the animal wasn’t lying down.
He was standing at the very end of a short chain beside an empty house, staring toward the street.
Not barking at passing cars.
Watching them leave.
Jack made it half a block before something in his stomach tightened.
He stopped.
The dog was still watching him.
So Jack turned around.
Now the motorcycle stood near the curb with the engine off, ticking as it cooled.