Min Soe Than - About a young autistic boy

At 7:00 a.m., the dog was found lying on its side in the middle of Mrs. Shears' front lawn. Its eyes were closed, and it looked as if it were running, as if it were running after seeing a cat in a dream. But the dog was not running, nor was it sleeping. The dog was dead.

A garden fork was stuck in the dog. The barbs of the fork seemed to pierce the dog and stick it into the ground. That's why the fork didn't fall. I would say that the dog died from being stabbed with the fork, because there were no other injuries on the dog. And I don't think so. The dog died of some other disease and was stabbed with the garden fork. For example, it had cancer - or it was an accident on the road, but I'm not sure about that.

I went in through Mrs. Shears's door, closed the door, walked across her lawn, and knelt down beside the dog. I put my hand on the dog's muzzle, it was still warm.

The dog is called Wellington. It belongs to Mrs. Shears. She is a friend of mine and lives two houses to the left across the street.

Wellington is a fluffy poodle. He is not a miniature poodle with a variety of hair styles, but rather a large poodle. He has long, thick, curly black fur, but if you look closely, the skin underneath the thick fur is a pale yellow like a chicken's.

As I stroked Wellington, I wanted to ask who killed him and why.