The Yelchin family didn't keep their pets in the main house. They had a dedicated enclosure on the grounds where a variety of animals were kept—dogs, cats, rabbits, even alpacas. The family members only visited when they were in the mood for some amusement, leaving the daily care to the staff.
Brinley was fond of large dogs. She had one particularly ugly breed with a wrinkled face, a dog she had once tried to set on Starla.
Starla remembered the incident clearly. As the dog lunged, she had instinctively grabbed a nearby object and struck it on the head. The animal had bled profusely, and Brinley had cried hysterically to Darleen, who then had the audacity to demand that Starla apologize to the dog. Starla, of course, refused. The ensuing argument had lasted until Fairfax came home and put a stop to it.
Finishing her coffee, Starla stood up. She decided it was time for a visit.
As she stepped out of the car near the enclosure, the combined stench of animals hit her, and she instinctively covered her nose.
In the distance, she saw Brinley frantically gesturing at Sally. “Hurry up! Her guard isn’t here right now.”
As she spoke, Brinley waved a hand in front of her face, clearly disgusted by the overwhelming smell of animal waste.
Her own dog trotted around her feet, but Brinley, unlike her usual doting self, irritably kicked it away. “Get away from me! Can’t you see I’m busy?”
For people like her, pets were merely accessories—to be played with when happy and discarded when not.
Sally’s face was a mask of grim resentment, but she said nothing.

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