My Husband’s Golden Retriever, My Second Life Novel – Chapter 1 My husband feared I’d feel lonely during my pregnancy, so he’d gotten me a golden retriever. I immediately found an underground puppy mill and arranged for her to be bred relentlessly—twelve litters in a row, until her body gave out. In my past life, I’d loved that dog with every piece of my heart. I took her everywhere and even slept curled up with her every night. In just one month, I aged rapidly, looking like a woman in her fifties. My unborn baby lost its heartbeat. In the end, I died on the operating table. After my death, my soul drifted free. I watched my supposedly terminally ill best friend, Chloe Watson, float out of the golden retriever’s body, looking youthful and radiant as she stood before my husband. “Thanks to my soul-transference ritual, I inhabited this dog,” she told him. “Every time I licked her, I drained a part of her life force.” “You’re lucky to sacrifice your life for mine.
Your death saves me the trouble of killing you myself.” Reborn again, I smiled coldly. I couldn’t send them to jail. There wasn’t enough evidence. But she was just a female dog in heat. What was wrong with sending her for endless breeding rounds? “Find me an underground breeding farm, one that allows continuous dog mating sessions, and make it fast,” I gripped my assistant Zoe’s wrist tight, my fingernails nearly piercing her skin. Zoe stared at me in shock, “Ms. Hayes, but this dog was a gift from Mr. Carter especially for you…” “Just do it,” my voice stayed eerily flat, sending a chill down my own spine. Ethan’s voice echoed from the living room, “Nora, come quick. I’ve got a surprise for you.” I released Zoe, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the bedroom. A golden retriever sat obediently in the center of the living room, with glossy fur and a pink bow tied around its neck. The second its eyes landed on me, a sharp, human glint flashed in them. That was no dog’s gaze.
It was Chloe’s. I’d never figured out how I died in my past life, not until my soul floated free and uncovered the entire cruel truth. Chloe and I had been best friends all through college. I’d stayed by her side through every illness, sent her money whenever she needed it, and even asked my husband Ethan to check on her often during her supposed critical illness. Yet she’d traveled to Southeast Asia to learn forbidden soul transference magic. She’d trapped her soul inside a golden retriever and talked Ethan into gifting the dog to me, claiming it would keep me company through my pregnancy. Every lick stole a little more of my vitality. By the seventh month of my pregnancy, I looked haggard and decades older than my age. My fetus stopped developing, and I flatlined on the surgery table. As my soul hovered above the operating room, I watched Chloe’s spirit slip out of the dog’s body and return to her hospitalized physical form. The body that should have been clinging to life in the ICU suddenly blooming with health.
Ethan held her gently, “She’s gone. Her house, savings, and studio are all ours now.” Chloe laughed triumphantly, “Her possessions mean nothing. I’ve drained seven years of her lifespan. I’ll gain twenty more years of life from this.” I lingered in the air, helpless and furious, my spiritual nails digging into nothingness. But I was reborn. Back to the very day Ethan brought the dog home. “Nora, what are you daydreaming about?” Ethan wrapped an arm around my shoulders, “Chloe specifically picked this golden retriever for you. She said it’s the gentlest breed, perfect to keep you company during your pregnancy.” The retriever sat on the floor, staring up at me with a faint, human smirk tugging at its mouth. A dog was smiling. It stood up, padded toward me, and stuck out its tongue, ready to lick my hand. I stepped back sharply. In my past life, this was exactly how it started. It licked my hands, my cheeks, my belly every single day. Each lick left me feeling hollow, like something vital was being stripped from my body.
White hairs sprouted the next day. My skin sagged the third. My eyes grew dim and cloudy by the fourth. In just thirty days, I went from a vibrant twenty-eight-year-old to a worn-out woman in her fifties. The day my fetus died, I lay in the ultrasound room, listening to the doctor search fruitlessly for a heartbeat. “Ms. Hayes, I’m sorry. There’s no fetal heartbeat.” I’d blamed myself back then, convinced my poor health had cost me my child. Now I knew the truth. This dog, Chloe, had licked my baby’s life away, little by little. “Nora?” Ethan frowned, “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” I forced a soft smile, “What’s her name?” “She doesn’t have one yet. You can name her.” I stared down at the golden retriever. Her tail wagged wildly, but her eyes held an unnerving, human sharpness — far too clever for any ordinary dog. “Let’s call her Wynn,” I said simply. Ethan chuckled, “That’s a cute name.” Wynn. Short for Winne, mirroring Chloe’s hidden intent. I wanted her to know I’d seen through her disguise, yet never guess how much I knew. Wynn stepped closer, nuzzling my calf and licking my ankle. A cold chill seeped straight into my skin. I could see it clearly — she was smiling. I knelt down and stroked her head gently. “We’ll get along just fine, Wynn,” I smiled sweetly. A flash of arrogance flickered in her eyes.
Zoe walked over from the balcony, her face deathly pale. When I’d gripped her hand earlier, I’d scribbled two words in her palm: breeding farm. She knew I didn’t mean a regular pet store breeding site. I meant the remote, unregulated kind—with rusted iron cages, where female dogs were forced into endless mating cycles and discarded when they could no longer produce. I retreated to my bedroom and locked the door, then pulled out my phone. I’d been far too kind in my past life. So kind that I’d died brutally without understanding why. This life, I would be kind no longer. Ethan knocked softly outside the door, “Nora, why’d you lock the door? Wynn hasn’t had her dinner yet.” “I’m exhausted. I’m going to rest. Could you feed her for me?” Silence hung in the air for a few seconds outside the door. “Alright,” Ethan’s footsteps faded away. I heard him speak softly to the dog in the living room, “Mommy’s tired, so we’ll let her rest.” Wynn barked once. In that single bark, I heard nothing but unbridled triumph.