PART 1
I am a Dutch Shepherd. We are warriors, protectors, rescuers, and most of all… beloved companions. When the People started coming by to look at us and play with us, my mother and father told me that we, as working dogs, bore a greater responsibility to our humans than others of our kind.
“They know what we can do, and how great our drive is to do it,” Mother said. “They have expectations of us they don’t have for those little dogs with the short legs or the long fluffy coats.”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with being one of those little floofballs,” Father interjected. “But ever since we became their companions since the Time of the Mist, every litter ever born has gotten this lecture.”
And the lecture was this: We are meant to be companions. But no matter what the humans thought, we are meant to be their protectors, as long as they live up to their end of the contract between man and dog. And I accepted this without hesitation.
My brother Hestlebess was the first to be adopted. I found out later he became a police dog with the Bestowed Name of Otto. He was very clearly up to that responsibility.
Adirakin was the next. She found a new life as a cattle herder named Foxy. I wondered what the human world had in store for me.
As young as I was, I couldn’t tell whether the people who took my siblings looked all that impressive. The man who picked up Otto didn’t look like a cop. Foxy’s new owners didn’t particularly look like ranchers. But the young woman who found herself playing with me the most out of my remaining siblings was definitely… different.
Her skirt was down to her ankles despite the weather. Her hair and makeup were a kind of black I instinctively knew then was a little different, and a little darker than the usual black hair. And I had never seen (and haven’t seen since) a human who wore so much jewelry- it was constantly clanging together like the music the crickets made. But when she handed Mother and Father’s owners the little slip of paper, I knew it was my time.
“Don’t worry, son,” Father said as the leash was looped around my neck. “A lot of the people who have adopted our previous litters come and visit us all the time. This isn’t the last time.”
“But if it is-“ Father huffed, as he always did when my Mom got dark.”-know that we’re already proud of you.”
And the warped murmuring that was the human language allowed through the first word I understood from the lady as she opened the puppies’ enclosure:
“Ace.” It could only be my Bestowed Name.
“Did you hear that, mom and dad? My name’s Ace now!” And they wished me their best. I learned later that when my mom rested her chin on my head she was doing our version of the things humans called “crying.” When I saw them getting smaller and smaller through the back window I hoped they understood the lady I was going home with was in good hands.
Despite all of what Mother and Father had said, the lady didn’t seem to expect much of me. She gave me a bed, lots of toys, good food, and all the walks and pets most dogs wouldn’t know what to do with. Most dogs. Dogs that weren’t Dutch Shepherds.
I noticed she seemed a little amused after coming back from a 2-hour hike at how much I still wanted to play. She seemed tired, but what was I supposed to do with all this energy? No wonder they needed us to protect them- humans have almost no stamina compared to us.
I don’t understand why she seemed so surprised at how fast I chewed threw my toys. I mean, she encouraged it, playing tug-of-war with me, having me play fetch- everything she did told me I was supposed to dig my teeth into them. I messed up a few times- there was a lot of stuff in her home that she left where I could reach that I didn’t know was for me. Like those hard crunchy things she points at the TV- she left them right where I can get to them, but she just sighed, muttered, and replaced them… keeping them out of my reach.
Her house was way bigger than the breeders’. It was two stories, had a huge room with stairs when you entered that didn’t seem to do anything but make the house bigger. She even had a wood fence around the whole place that even a Dutch Shepherd could never hope to jump over. It was a lot of room to run- and that was just on the inside. I could catch smells on the wind and see lights from other houses at night, but we were pretty isolated otherwise. It truly became home when another word penetrated the hum that was the human language- “Meredith.” That was her name.
2 years passed. 2 wonderful years where I got more love than I could ever hope for… that were also unexciting. It took me a long time to get used to the idea that it was OK to just be a friend, and nothing else. I thought at first I was there to protect against all of the toads that seemed to come out around the fall. They would hop up to the edge of the treeline and just… watch the house. ‘Round that time of year I would see something with really long legs moping back and forth in the trees, but never coming any closer. I barked at the Long-Legger and the toads, but Meredith would just scratch me behind the ears and never show an ounce of concern. For that first fall with her and the next, I just waited them out. Because there was a day whose name also managed to reach me: Halloween. That was the day Meredith opened the doors to her home and the Pale Ones would enter. They didn’t have a smell most of the time, but every once in a while, I would catch a whiff of something… something like Meredith. Like how my breeders’ grown children always smelled like their mother or father the few times they visited before I was adopted.
I quickly came to understand that they were Meredith’s family. And she was the only one not like them, and they could only be with her this one special day of the year. I sensed love for her emanating from them as well as a little amusement, affection, and respect coming my way. Well, I did my best to keep an eye out for her if I do say so myself. She spoke and laughed with them like they were any other human, and when the sun came up, they would be gone- as well as the toads and the Long-Legger. For a time.
We visited Mother and Father 2 summers after I was adopted. It was late summer, and the police officer who worked with Otto was there with him. The humans talked, and Otto and I played and chased just like when we were stubby-legged little pups. I was slightly bigger, but to my chagrin he was a lot faster.
“Looks like you’ve been getting too many Beggin’ Treats and belly rubs and not enough of anything else!” Otto laughed over his shoulder. I didn’t say anything. But after a while, I finally plopped myself down on the grass by the water bowl, and my brother didn’t hesitate to do the same. After we each lapped up enough to cool down, we started telling stories about our exciting lives with our owners. Or rather, I listened to Otto tell all of his stories of life as a police dog.
“And get this… the guy’s brain was taken out of his body and was in this metal thing. It lost power and it looked like the guy dropped dead, but I found out later that it was just the power to connect the brain remotely to the body. When they got it up and running and woke his body up, we got to go visit him in the hospital! I don’t think he can ever be normal, but that had to have been the first time he’s smiled in years, when he saw me again!”
I was stunned at this story. I was pretty sure if you took anything was outside me and left it out, I would probably die. The things humans could do…
“Wow,” I said. “And here I thought the giant thing that comes out every fall would make a good story.”
“Wait a minute,” Otto said. “What giant thing?” And so I told him about the Long-Legger.
“Ace,” Otto said, very slowly when I had finished, “I think I would be a little more concerned about this if I were you.”
“Meredith isn’t.” I said this trying to be casual and knew I had failed completely.
“Brother, we can hear things miles away that they can’t. We can smell things from that distance that they only could if it were right under their noses. If we can do all that, how this makes you feel is pretty important. So let me ask- how does this thing make you feel when you see it?”
When all I could do is stare at my paws, he gave me one last warning before changing the subject.
“We’re never meant to be just a pet. Be ready to live up to that if it comes to it.”
On the way home, I had almost convinced myself my brother was overreacting when Meredith hit the brakes. Spooked, I couldn’t help but bark at nothing, wanting to seem ready for action after what Otto had told me.
But instead she was looking at a cardboard sign with the humans writing. It was in front of another country house, and when she got her car moving again, she wasted no time pulling into the driveway. 10 minutes later she came out with a cardboard box with holes cut in the side. It was taped shut to keep whatever was in there inside. I could see what looked like two voids trying to peer out of the holes. And they were yowling in tones that conveyed a whole spectrum of emotions- fear, curiosity, excitement.
And just like that, my life had taken a turn.
oO0Oo
When we got home, she placed the box down in the foyer, and knelt down beside it. She took my face in her hands, and started to speak. Her words were urgent. And I knew that for the first time in these wonderful two years, I finally had a responsibility worthy of my breed. But I was baffled at what that responsibility turned out to be when she peeled the tape off the box and opened it.
They looked like little black balls of fluff with two yellow spots apiece to break up the voids. Kittens. Two, little, black, kittens. Meredith held a firm grip on me. She must have been worried I would step on the little darlings, because my tail was going a mile a minute. There’s no way she could doubt that I wanted to make friends-
“Get away!” They both yelled, taking a swing each with their tiny paws, with one connecting with my snout. That did it:
“What the hell is wrong with you two little brats? You’re living with us now, we have to be friends! How can-“
And instantly, Meredith was leading me into the next room. She consoled me, probably telling me everything was going to be alright. More than anything I was peeved that how they acted towards me obviously upset Meredith. As she spoke, the names she gave them instantly pierced the language barrier between us: Lucipurr and Poe.
Over the next few days, I watched them from a distance. I watched them from the top of the stairs, looking down into the living room. I watched them in the kitchen from the living room as they ate. I watched them from one end of the end of the hallway as they slept in their beds at the other end outside Meredith’s room. They watched me like a hawk whenever I got too close. And eventually they relaxed enough that I could get a little closer. And again… they never took their eyes off me, until they relaxed again. This process repeated itself for a week until I could finally coexist in the same room with them without any trouble.
It seemed like the last barrier between us was just having a conversation. If I tried to talk to them, they would bolt from the room. I ended up having to act like they weren’t there. Which was easy enough, but one afternoon I had lost track of what they were doing while I was chewing on an antler Meredith had just bought me. I nearly choked on it when a tiny voice broke the silence:
“Big Guy,” Lucipurr whispered. “What are those?” She was looking out the patio door to the back yard and into the woods beyond. That was when I finally heard the croaking.
It was the middle of September- it was too early for this. I had hoped I could warn the girls when they were comfortable enough to talk to me. As it was, I had to stop myself from bolting to the back door so I didn’t scare her. I carefully padded over and was relieved that she didn’t run. On the other hand, she seemed so transfixed she might not have noticed me.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” I said, never having meant that phrase less. “They come around every year, and-“
Yes, they came around every year, but not this many. I could make out dozens of brown dots standing out in the sea of orange, yellow, and brown. All plopped down right at the edge of the treeline. I had a strange distrust for anything that couldn’t stand or sit. That was because it was impossible to read their body language to gauge their next movie.
“Anyway, they come around every year,” I finally stammered out. “Nothing to worry about.” You really sound every inch the noble protector the Dutch Shepherd is famed to be, I growled inside.
“Do they taste good?” Poe finally asked.
“They taste like shit. All the same, I never liked having those little freaks here. But don’t you worry, the only thing you have to worry about is Meredith being too busy cleaning up dismembered toad for a few hours to give you scritches.” Which was a total lie- I had no idea how they tasted because I had never been able to catch one when I had tried. Shouldn’t I have been faster than a toad? I asked myself for at least the dozenth time.
“But don’t worry- they can’t get inside,” I assured them, never taking my eyes off the line of croaking invaders. At least the Long-Legger was nowhere to be seen.
“You look like you’re still worried about them,” Lucipurr murmured.
“I have to be, even if there’s nothing to worry about.” I finally tore myself away from the window and plopped down on the carpet by the couch.
“We’re supposed to be protectors,” I explained. “But Meredith acts like she doesn’t need anything like that from me.” At this explanation, Lucipurr cuddled by my side.
“I’m sorry I was so mean to you,” she whimpered. “You seem so big and scary at first.”
“Meredith is way taller than me. She probably weighs twice as much as me and you were sitting in her lap the day after you came home. Explain that ridiculous logic of yours little lady.”
“Well,” Poe finally huffed. “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t need any protection, if I may say so myself.”
A distant peal of thunder shook the house and made my ears throb, and Poe joined her sister next to me. Their tiny forms were the only thing that kept me from diving under the coffee table myself.
“You don’t need a bed, either,” I joked, trying to get my heart rate under control. “But you prefer not to sleep on the floor, right?”
Poe just grumbled at this and curled herself into a ball at my side.
oO0Oo
After that, we were inseparable. Meredith was over the moon every time she caught us cuddling. Eventually the four of us would spend our nights on the couch. I know Meredith didn’t have a “job” the way most humans had- she would instead work from some other room in a wing of the house that was never open to us, and she would send away strange smelling packages in the mail. I think that was how she made her money. I always thought it was weird that I couldn’t smell them until she came out of that closed wing. After all, what was a little door to a dog and his sniffer?
There were more toads this year, but I never saw the Long-Legger, either. I hadn’t told Otto about the Pale Visitors because that seemed like our secret. It was the main reason I didn’t worry as much about our annual visitors as I could have- Meredith seemed more in touch with things outside the world that even we dogs could sense. As long as she wasn’t worried…
Then came October 15th. We were all eating our dinners- us animals crunching our kibble and Meredith sucking down something pungent she had let simmer for hours- when it came. There was no build. One moment, a comfortable silence, and the next, we were overpowered. The croaking was deafening. But there was some
They sounded like they were in the house, but they weren’t. Because it was coming from empty space. From air. I barked like crazy, running to look out into the back yard. The toads were gone. I had enough time to register this as Meredith’s hand grabbed my collar and pulled me close. The din was so loud I hadn’t heard her approach.
Meredith hugged all three of us, and as the kittens cried, I knew Otto was right. This was something to be terrified of, and it was only going to get worse.
Our food tasted strange after that. It was our usual dinner, but Meredith had added something to it.
“I don’t like this,” Lucipurr said.
“It tastes like ass!” Poe grumbled. She turned to me. “Oops, forgot I was talking to a dog- tasting like ass is a bad thing.”
“Look, I’m saying this to you as your big ‘ol Dutchie protector,” I intoned. “My canine instinct is telling me you definitely want to eat that.” I don’t know how I knew this, but I did. Dogs had a stronger instinct for the unknown and unseen than humans, but that was a leap, even for one of us.
“What’s Meredith getting ready for?” Poe asked as she chewed noisily.
“Her family comes to visit every Halloween,” I explained. “And they drive the frogs and off every year without even trying. It’ll be fine.” I left out the weirder details. They had enough to worry about.
But Meredith seemed to think it wouldn’t be enough. She hanged crystals from the ceiling, drew symbols on the walls, sprinkled powders and spices of various types on the floor. On the night before Halloween, she rested. Or rather, she tried to conserve her energy for the following night, when her Pale Family would come to visit.
“You’re going to love Halloween,” I assured them. “There’s no better day for black cats than Halloween. Look, Meredith even got us some movies about black cats!” And on the night of October 30th, we watched the first one.
Unfortunately, the movie was Hocus Pocus.
“Binx! Why did Binx have to die?!” Lucipurr sobbed as the credits rolled, while Meredith gave her ears a little scritchy.
“I liked him better as a cat, and then they had him turn back into a stupid kid,” Poe groused. Meredith popped open another black cat movie.
I laughed and cuddled them both. They liked “Tales from the Darkside: The Movie” a whole lot more. They were scared when the guy tried to shoot the black cat, but by the end it was pretty clear the cat had the upper hand, and they were cheering as it killed the villain by crawling down his throat and suffocating him.
“That was awesome when you could hear the bones cracking!” Poe enthused.
“Is that what you do?” Lucipurr asked. I turned, surprised. “I mean, to protect the house and Meredith?” I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of killing an intruder by forcing myself down his gullet.
“Well, I don’t think it will ever come to that. And you certainly don’t have to worry about that. That’s the dog’s responsibility, not the cats.”
“Well, I’m glad we have you,” Poe declared. “But we could handle it by ourselves if we had to.” Completely unprompted, in rapid succession, every memory I had of those unnaturally long legs scuttling through the trees flashed through my mind. And it felt like a premonition.
Don’t let this be the last good night we have. Please, Oh, Great Dog, don’t let it.
Before we went up to bed, I let the girls go on up to Meredith’s room first before daring to look at the long-legger one last time. I looked into the woods through the window and didn’t see it. It wasn’t there every time I had ever looked this time of year, and at a certain point I knew I never had seen it when I had looked out for this long. It was right away, or not at all. But then, I saw a thin stalk of flesh disappear into the dark woods. It had been there the whole time, blending in, watching. The house’s heater droned, and I wondered if that bare minimum of background noise was what gave me the courage to speak to it.
“See you next year. I know the Pale Ones’ll send you running for the hills tomorrow like they always do. Maybe this time, don’t come back-“
The heater stopped, and I, too, was silent when I heard the sound the heater had covered. Rattled, labored, breathing. It wasn’t in the house. I remembered all the times I had seen the ocean on TV. The Long-Legger’s breathing was rolling over and into the house like the tide. It was closer than ever, while somehow never approaching the house any more than it ever had.
I trotted upstairs- it took all I had not to run, but I didn’t want to scare the girls. All the while, the rasping continued, never decreasing or increasing in intensity.
And they were oblivious. The kittens were almost asleep, and Meredith was drowsily perusing some book whose cover was adorned all these weird patterns of short, straight lines.
I felt fine. Meredith was fine. Lucipurr and Poe were fine. But the breath never ceased. It never faded, but it didn’t grow louder, either. I had lived under the shadow of this intruder for two years, and living with a human who seemed to have more of a sense for the unseen than others made me complacent.
So I went to sleep never having asked myself: If we could hear the sinewy thing breathing, what was it breathing on us? (PART 2 TOMORROW)