I (34 M) am a huge animal lover, always have been. My mother was a vet (now retired for three years) and my father volunteered at an animal shelter when he wasn’t stuck in his cubicle. I loved going to the shelter when I was a young boy. On weekends he still goes down to volunteer.
I met my wife (33F) Linda when I was twenty-three. Everything about her is perfect. But there is one issue: she is not an animal person at all. It’s possibly our biggest disagreement. Although, as time went on, she eased up and agreed that we could have one dog. To say I was happy is an understatement. I was through the goddamned roof.
The dog we got was a Newfoundland named Molly. A big breed that was loyal, fun to play with, and was just so… cuddly. My wife used to tease me for calling our dog cuddly, but I didn’t care. Molly was beautiful. She had a slick, black coat that I groomed everyday. She was in good shape, fun to play with, and super active. She adored and guarded our daughter Cassie (7F). I treasured the memories and photos of all their interactions, hoping that Cassie could grow to her teenage years with Molly. But it never happened.
I got a call from my wife one day. She was frantic on the phone, not able to get a word out past her sobs. Then she finally uttered three words that would later destroy my world: “Molly is dead”. I immediately drove home from work and found my dog laying down motionless on our stoop. There was a note stapled to her, and written in what I assumed to be her blood were the words: ‘Decide who’s next, pal’. I called the cops, they said they’d do some forensics testing on the note. I knew it wouldn’t be taken seriously because the victim wasn’t human. We had Molly interred at a pet cemetery. Yes, I spent money on a doggy casket and burial plot. I loved Molly that much.
Since then, weird shit has been happening. Some items have been moved during times when no one is home. My daughter hears tapping coming from her window. Worst of all, my neighbors report seeing a large figure in our backyard, just standing there.
My brother in law recommended getting some Ring cameras installed as they were relatively cheap. I set them up as soon as possible. I wish I fucking didn’t. I should have just moved.
I kept getting motion notifications from the camera in my backyard. Every night at exactly 10:11, a tall, slender figure would climb over the fence holding a bag. He would dump the bag out, and the remains of my dog Molly would fall upon the grass. I could hear the figure laughing. It was a deep, raspy laugh. Then he’d collect all the bones and leave, screaming ‘Decide who’s next, pal’.
I decided enough was enough and stood outside with my shotgun. I was going to wait for this bastard and blow his fucking legs off. I wanted answers. What I got was a trip to the ER.
I don’t know what happened, but I woke up with my wife and daughter next to me crying. I had to get some stitches in the back of my head and was told I had a concussion. I guess I broke my fall with my wrist, because it was sprained and wrapped up tight. My wife and daughter went home, and I’m typing this as I wait to see the doctor. I’ll post an update when I can.