You calmly, but firmly, address the dognapping scum over the phone.

“Unfortunately for you, I have a very particular set of hobbies,” you tell them. “One of them is tracking my dog’s whereabouts via a location chip and a custom-rigged Garmin car GPS. The other is murdering people. See you in a few minutes, punks.”

“Uhhh,” the kidnapper stammers. “On second thought, we’ll bring your dog back right now. Anyone still using a Garmin in 2021 is capable of literally anything.”

“And pickup some Dog Cheetos on your way back, in case she gets snacky.”

“Do they make Dog Cheetos–”

“They’d better, or you’re dead!” you say and hang up. 

In 12 minutes, a black van slows down outside your apartment complex. Rottweiler hops out with a bag of Cheetos around her neck, and “Dog” written on it in Sharpie. She licks your face, and you lick hers.

THE END