"The sky is mad," Vinkolt thinks as he looks up. The author paints a dramatic picture of the sky, comparing it to spilled marshmallow fluff - dark, swirling, and ominous. The storm rages with loud clashes of thunder echoing through the urban landscape of buildings and skyscrapers. Lightning flashes, reflecting off windows and creating eerie, ghostly figures.
As Vinkolt watches, rain begins to pour down, cascading over streetlights, roads, and awnings. The young dog, only six years old, wonders if the night could possibly get any worse as he observes water gushing from a drainage pipe like a waterfall.
We learn that Vinkolt is a brown and black German Shepherd who has spent most of his life living in an alley. The story emphasizes his isolation and lack of origins - he knows nothing of where he came from or who his mother was. His entire world consists of this alley, the surrounding streets, and the narrow space between two buildings.
Soaked to the bone, Vinkolt makes his way to what passes for his home - a soggy cardboard box and an old, threadbare couch cushion he had salvaged from a dumpster months earlier. As he settles into this meager shelter, he sighs, "Home sweet home," though there's a clear sense of irony and sadness in this thought.
Hungry and cold, Vinkolt curls up tightly on his cushion, trying to find some warmth. His stomach growls loudly, seemingly competing with the thunder still booming overhead. He watches people pass by, noting how they fail to even notice his presence in the wet box. This invisibility clearly weighs on him.