Much to the displeasure of our pawrents, we liked hanging out in the old doghouse. The doghouse was situated toward the back of the shed, at the edge of the property and was a dilapidated, crumbling building that we were forbidden to enter.
My brother, sister and I usually went there at night and with our glowstick necklaces we would enter the barn through a side door that hung precariously on its last corroded hinge. It appeared ready to collapse at the tiniest provocation, so holding our breath and very careful to avoid touching anything, we would squeeze through the tiny opening to the inside.
Scattered randomly throughout the interior were rusting farming implements, rakes, a scythe and numerous long-forgotten other tools that no longer resembled anything useful. All of the items appeared dangerous and capable of serious damage if they were mishandled or if careless passage caused contact with fragile fur. We kept our distance and tried to remain clear of these things, finding our usual seats in the center of the room on the old hay bales left there. The hay was comfy.
The shed itself was pretty spooky and in the darkness, the outlines of the objects and decaying contents resembled the skeletons of the dead, but Sam, Isabella and I liked it. We would go there and share spooky stories and get ourselves so frightened, we'd barely find our balance to get back out the decrepit doghouse door as we would literally be shaking in our boots.
But the loft was the most sinister part of the shed. It was dark as pitch and the ladder leading up to it had years ago crumbled into an unusable heap of kindling that lie uselessly on the shed floor. The few remaining steps appeared in tact at the top, but at ground level the decaying rungs appeared through the murkiness to be the gaping holes of a skeleton's dislodged teeth.
We never went up to the loft and could only imagine its contents: huge spiders covered with coarse hair and menacing fangs. Their enormous eyes watched and waited for anyone who dared to ascend the rotting ladder to the elevated platform. Other than our mental images of the spiders, we had no idea what was in the loft. Maybe a big dog crate to lock us up forever! Maybe no more treats ever! Now that would be scary!!!
One night, we were in the shed sitting on the floor playing. During pauses in our wrestling, we listened to the mournful groans of the old structure slowly yet very audibly decaying. Why this caused us such fascination is unknown to me, but we were thoroughly enjoying the spooky, musty ambience that was the old shed.
Sammy Whammy was telling his favorite ghost story for the hundredth time in low, hushed tones. I was enthralled by the tale as my brother was very good at making any story sound terrifying beyond belief. Isabella buried herself in my fur.
Just when the story hit its scariest point, a scraping noise began to emanate from the loft. At first we thought it was our over active imaginations. But the soft sound grew in intensity as we listened, almost as if the originator had waited to ensure it's audience was paying attention.
Scraaaaape. Screeeeeech. Scraaaaape.
Then for a second, the only sound we could hear was our heartbeats pounding wildly in our ears. We stared at each other with wild eyes, lids locked wide open, almost bulging.
A chill ran down my spine. I grabbed my brother's paw and held it to me. I snuggles up closer to Isabella. I couldn't imagine what could be causing the sound and in terror, I whispered loudly, "Sam, Isabella!! We gotta go now!"
At that, my brother shifted position and leaped over to sit beside me. He shook loose my grip and wrapped his paws around me, covering my mouth with one of his paws. "Shhh," he whispered, very quietly.
Screeeeech. Scraappppe.
It was a metallic sound, hollow and ominous.
Sam grabbed my paw and pulled me and Isabella with him as he jumped up and ran for the door. We held our breaths as we squeezed through the passageway, careful to keep from touching the sides. We escaped the shed and doghouse and ran out into the night using all of our might to keep from screaming.
We made it to the backyard and stopped, panting, chests heaving. We gained our composure before we stepped onto the porch and barked for Ma to open the screen door. Ma was there and said, "Time for dinner kids!"
"I'm glad you're here," she continued, "a man escaped from jail tonight and the police are on the lookout. You pups should stay inside. Guess the guy was a terrible, evil person. Murdered five people and their dogs before he got caught."
We half listened as we pushed to see who'd get through the door first.
"Shouldn't be hard to find, though. He had a metal hook for a hand. Gotta be pretty easy to find a fellow like that.
As Ma is twyin to deal wif dis sick neighborhood stray it has made us wealize how lucky we iz.
We hab a Ma and a Dad dat lub us vewy much. We have hooman beds to sweep in at night. We hab gud health and gud veterinary care. We hab tons of toys, chewies and treats. We hab each other to pway wif. We hab a nice house to roam around in and play and slide around on the pergo floor. We hab a nice fenced in yard to run in. We hab gud fud and fresh water at our disposal 24/7. Most importantly we hab hooman dat lub us and pway wif us and take keer of us. We get to go to PetSmart, Pet Partners, the Barkery, the park and the lake. We wish dat all doggies and kitties get to hab dis in dere life........
Mommy is still finking bout the res-q puggy she applied to adopt. She is starting to worry because we havent heard anyfing. We twy to tail her dat no amount of worrying iz gonna change de situation but she aint hearing us. :(
Dogster Obsessions: The Starter Kit for Dogs by Wildebeest
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