My five pound Pomeranian, Killer Impulse (Kiki for short), certainly isn’t mauling any home-invaders for me, but she’s always been a fantastic alarm system. I adopted her two years ago, and I can confidently say that she’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. I spoil her as best I can on my librarian’s salary, putting all of my spending money towards vets, toys, and dog food. In exchange, she hunts bugs and rats that make their way into our dingy apartment; she provides me with endless entertainment; and she acts as a free delivery-notification system.
Kiki’s always been exceptionally wary of strangers. It’s a trait that makes socializing her pretty much impossible, but most of the time, I see it as a blessing. She always lets me know when someone’s at our door, which makes me feel safer even though our apartment building is in a pretty bad part of town.
A few months ago, for example, a water pipe broke in between my and my neighbor’s apartment, and the resulting leak ate a hole in the wall before the pipe was fixed. For a few days, I had to move my bookcase into the entryway to cover up the 6-inch-diameter hole, through which I could see right into my neighbor’s apartment and vice versa. At least the hole was near the floor and not at eye level, I guess. Maintenance took their sweet time responding to my request, and when they finally decided to show up (unannounced by the way), I was taking a nap on my couch. Before the two men even had the chance to knock, Kiki started yapping her little Pomeranian heart out. In doing so, she gave me time to get up, quickly make myself decent, and put her in my bedroom before the maintenance workers let themselves inside.
Last Tuesday, I came home after dark. The library was hosting their “Library Card Registration” event, which always took place on the second Tuesday of the month, so I worked a longer day than usual. When I stepped into my apartment at around midnight, I almost tripped over a piece of wood in the entryway. You see, when maintenance “fixed” the wall, all they did was nail a plank over the hole, and it kept falling off no matter how many times I jammed it back into place. Grumbling to myself, I shoved the plank back into the wall and then took a seat on the floor, petting Killer and apologizing to her for my tardiness. She had a doggy-litter box to do her business in and plenty of food, but I still felt bad about leaving her alone. I promised her an extra walk the following day.
I also tried to give her a treat as an apology, but she didn’t seem interested. In fact, she rarely seemed interested in her treats anymore and rarely finished her meals. I brought this up at her most recent check-up, but she hadn’t lost any weight and seemed perfectly healthy, so I figured her metabolism was simply slowing as she got older.
After taking off my shoes, I fixed myself some tea and sat on the couch to watch a little television. One of my favorite shows was on, so I made myself comfortable. Kiki joined me after a few minutes, hopping onto the couch and flopping dramatically onto the cushions. It was nice to be able to relax with my dog and a hot drink after a long day of work. I almost drifted off to sleep before I heard that stupid piece of wood clattering to the floor again. Rolling my eyes, I ignored the sound. I would put it back in the morning.
Half an hour passed, and I decided to get up. Usually, on Card-Registration days, I ended up falling asleep in front of the T.V., so I thought I’d be responsible for once and brush my teeth before getting too cozy on the couch. Not bothering to turn the T.V. off since I planned on coming right back, I rose from my seat with a stretch and made my way towards the bathroom. Once I was within view of the entryway, though, something gave me pause.
The wooden board was still where I had pushed it into the wall. I looked at it for a moment, wondering what had made that clattering sound. It was a little odd, but I didn’t give it much thought. The walls were thin in my building, and the sound could easily have come from something like a shampoo bottle falling in my neighbor’s apartment. I walked into my bedroom to change into some sleepwear, smiling as I heard the little clicks of Kiki’s paws against the floor as she followed me into the bedroom.
As I traded my librarian outfit for a T-shirt and sweatpants, I got a strange feeling in my gut. Have you ever overdone it on your morning coffee and gotten anxious for no good reason? Like something’s triggering your fight-or-flight even though there’s nothing apparently wrong? That’s how I felt. I surveyed the dimly lit room, looking and listening for anything amiss, but there seemed to be nothing out of place. I knelt down next to Killer Impulse, trusting her nose more than my own senses. To my relief, she seemed perfectly at-ease. I gave her a few good scratches behind her ears and made my way back to the couch, Kiki still following me.
I was fully awake at that point. Though Kiki seemed alright, the nervous sensation stayed with me, making it impossible to relax. I kept thinking that I heard something, but when I turned the volume on the T.V. down to listen, I heard nothing at all. Every time I thought I heard something, I looked at Kiki, who was sleeping soundly on the couch next to me. Certainly, if something strange was going on, Kiki would have alerted me by then, right? I mean, she barked when our neighbors across the hall had people over, so surely if there was something going on in our own apartment, she would have noticed it, right?
An uneasy hour passed. I was too on-edge to fall asleep, but I was also too tired to enjoy the show. I realized at almost 2 A.M. that I had forgotten to brush my teeth after I changed. Once again, I got up from the couch, my loyal companion also rising from her resting spot to stay by my side. I bent down to give her a kiss on the top of her fluffy head, and then we walked together towards the bathroom. Kiki got there a little before me, stopping by the closed door and, oddly, beginning to wag. As I watched her tail swish back and forth, I realized that it wasn’t just any wag either—it was the motion she made before getting a treat.
Why was she making that motion in front of my empty bathroom?
Kiki’s always been exceptionally wary of strangers. She would never allow someone she didn’t know to enter our apartment without letting me know. But what about some she did know? What about someone who had somehow been giving her treats every time they saw her, getting her used to their scent. To their presence.
I stared at the bathroom door, my heart feeling as though it were about to beat right out of my chest. I had to get out of that apartment.
“Damn,” I said dramatically, faking an exasperated tone as best I could. “Left my wallet in the car again. I’ll be right back, Kiki.” I backed away from the door, keeping it in my sights until I’d made it out of the bedroom. Kiki followed me out, and once I had made it to my apartment entryway, I grabbed my phone off the kitchen counter, scooped Kiki into my arms, and ran down the stairs to the lobby. Once I was there, I called the police to report a suspected intruder in my apartment.
They found a man in my bathroom. He had been standing in my tub with the shower curtain pulled closed to obscure him. Although I had suspected a maintenance man or someone else who worked in my building, I was surprised to see my reclusive neighbor being escorted to the cop car in handcuffs. As I watched him shamble his way towards the car, I noticed that his right hand was covered in scars. I assume he had been knocking loose the wooden plank between our apartments and reaching through to pet and feed Kiki. From the looks of it, she’d been happy to bite his flesh to ribbons at first, but he must have earned her trust over time. He must have been plotting the break-in for at least a few months, slowly wearing down my trusted security system to ensure that she wouldn’t alert me to his presence. I also suspect that he was paying careful attention to my routine. He had planned his break-in for a night when I always came home tired, and he had likely chosen his hiding spot because he had never heard me shower on the second Tuesday of the month.
My neighbor wasn’t the only thing the police found in my shower. He had brought with him a duffle bag filled with a chloroform-soaked rag, duct tape, rope, and, the thing that haunts me the most, a saw.
Kiki and I have been staying with my parents for a few days while I get my nerves back under control. I don’t blame her at all for what happened—she’s still the best girl in the entire world in my eyes, but I don’t think I can rely on her to be my personal alarm anymore. I’m thinking about moving to a better part of the city. It might cost me an arm and a leg, but I think Kiki and I both deserve a place where we can feel safe at night. Maybe somewhere with a built-in security system.