One night a young girl, Lily Foster, is left alone for the night, in her country house, while her parents drove out to town for a party. This was fine with Lily, especially since she had her faithful dog, Scout, protecting her throughout the night. She made herself something to eat, and sat down at the kitchen table. Turning on the radio to her favorite station, she was surprised to hear a news bulletin declaring that an avenged murderer was on the loose. It advised that people secure all windows and doors as a safety precaution. With her dog by her side, the young girl locked the front and back doors. She went from window to window, and locked each of them one at a time. She reassured herself that she would be fine with her trusty dog, and that her parents would be home shortly, anyway. So, Lily had a pleasant, peaceful evening, and finally decided around eleven o'clock that it was time for bed. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom, and slid under the big, warm blanket on her bed. Before closing her eyes, reached her hand down under the bed, and allowed her dog to lick it. She did this every night, because it comforted her. A short while later she awoke to the sound of a scratching noise at her bedroom window. She eyed the window, and reminded herself that the whole house was locked and she was safe. She stuck her hand under her bed and felt her dog's slobbery tongue cross over the palm of her hand. She sighed and went back to sleep. An hour or so later she sat up in bed...She had heard footsteps in the hallway, and crept out of bed to see if it was possibly just her parents returning from their party. Seeing nothing, she returned to bed. As she was about to stick her hand under the bed, she heard a drip, drip, drip, followed by some footsteps. She walked downstairs into the kitchen and secured the the taps. That surely wasn't the source of the drip. She crept upstairs and climbed into bed. "This is silly," she told herself "I'm probably just imagining things." She stuck her hand under the bed, and felt the dog lick her hand. An hour later she awoke again. A little mad at this point, she jumped out of bed. The dripping wasn't coming from the kitchen so it must be from the bathroom. She crept along the side of the hallway, and walked into the bathroom. She groped along the side of the wall with her left hand, looking for the light switch. She flicked the light on and gasped. There, hanging from the shower rod was Scout-skinned-a pool of blood had formed on the bathroom tile with a continuous 'drip, drip, drip' as the blood from the dog hit the ground. Something on the wall caught her eye; written on the wall was a message in blood..."Humans can lick too."