To start things off, I’m not a dog person. So when my grandparents put in their will that they want someone to take care of their 6 year old anatolian shepherd, everyone seemed to point at me to take care of it. Simply because I happen to be the only other person that that dog could tolerate. That dog always barked and ran up to people whenever they walked into my grandparents home. Not in a playful way, but rather in a way where he’s telling them “this is MY house, get out!”. But when I’d come to visit them, he’d sit in the middle of their hallway that led to the bathroom and just… stare. Just staring at me. No barks, no growls; nothing. My grandmother always claimed that that was his way of showing that he respected me. I called bullshit on that, but I never spoke on it.
It took about three weeks for Mush to adapt to his new home. He knew who I was, didn’t eat as much and when I was at work, he would seem to play with his toys. But when I got home, the house would be silent. I would hear a few click clacks from his nails hitting the wooden floor but otherwise, it almost seemed like I didn’t have my very own dog. When I’d work from home, he would every once and awhile walk into my home office, stare at me, then just sit by the door and continue to give me a stare. I assumed it was because he needed something so when I’d walk towards him and start asking him what he wanted as if he understood me; he’d stand up, take one step back, before sitting down again. It seemed to be an ongoing thing and I learned to just assume that he wanted to watch me.
It took another week for me to finally build a doggie door for him to play in the backyard. He seemed quite excited for that and I’d like to believe that he became comfortable because of that. He had his own freedom without the need to ask me for stuff and still had a place to come to when he was done chilling in the backyard.
I became closer to him after that too. Something just changed. His demeanor became more light, bubbly and he wagged his tail more often. I began (though I’d never admit it to people I know) to talk in a baby voice around him. He even slept at the end of my bed sometimes. Mush was becoming my best friend without me knowing. When we’d go on walks, he never tug on the leash, he listened to my commands, he would look at me for reassurance whenever he saw other dogs or kids outside. It was like he completely understood what I wanted…
But, I’m getting too backtrack. After I had installed the doggie door, Mush has been bringing home little… treats to say the least. At first, it was sticks. Small tiny sticks. Then, it was rocks. I thought it was his way of showing gratitude. You know, like what a cat does. I kept all of his little findings in a box and put it in my closet. But then he stopped bringing the little nick nacks. It turned into dead birds, squirrels, any small living thing. Again, I thought it was like a cats behavior.
“Not again, Mush.” I had already seen what he was holding in his mouth. Another fucking bird. Grabbing a glove from the glove box in the kitchen, I put it on and caught it before he could drop it on the ground. “I told you to stop. You understand me right?” I asked, walking towards the back door and opening it. Mush seemed to have followed me as I walked out. It was the third one this week and I’ve already build mini graveyards for these dead animals. Mush though, didn’t seem to grasp that I didn’t want them. As I was digging another hole for the dead bird, I kept talking to him as if he understood a thing I was saying. “No more animals” this, and “I don’t want this,” that. Mush sat beside me, staring down at the graves before he walked into the house.
You would think that was the last of it, right?
I thought so.
It’s been two months since he had last given me that dead bird. But recently… I’ve been smelling decay in my house. Like… the smell of a dead mouse. I searched everywhere for that smell, from the basement to the upstairs bathroom. But the smell was strongest in my home office. It reeked of death, like nothing I could comprehend. Like, if Mush had dug up those dead animals and left them in my office.
“Found the cause of it, Mr. Adam’s,” Jerry, my old neighbor had said as he picked up a dead raccoon. My eyebrows scrunched. What. The. Fuck. “Found it shoved between your bookshelves. You sure you don’t have a big hole somewhere in your house? That doggie door has a sensor, right?” Jerry grabbed a plastic bag and threw the decaying raccoon in there. The two of us almost gagged, Jerry’s eyes almost letting out a few tears.
I looked away, my index finger and thumb pinching my nose. “I have a sensor doggie door. Mush’s collar is like the key for it,” I explained. Jerry nodded in understanding, not wanting to smell it any longer. His face was getting red from holding in his breath. I quickly took the bag away from him and held onto it. No way am I letting an old man die in my house because he was holding in his breath for too long. “Mush might’ve brought it in, he’s been bringing in dead animals… not recently, but he did,” I explained.
Jerry looked at me, a frown spreading across his face. “Did one of them happen to be a white cat?” he quietly asked.
I immediately shook my head. “No, no. God no! Oh God, I wouldn’t know what I’d do if it was a cat or another dog…” I shivered at the thought. “Why?” I asked almost too quickly. Did Jerry happen to adopt a cat?
We headed towards the front door, Jerry stepping out first. It was so odd of him to be quiet. This was the man that greeted me when I first moved in and laughed about how much repairs I had to do to this house. Said he’d come help if I needed an extra hand. “Tulip’s been missing for three days now… My little Lily left the door open when she came to visit and Tulip’s been missing since.” Jerry let out a heavy sigh.
Lily was his granddaughter, about eight-nine years old. A little brunette with two missing front teeth. Whenever I saw her over and she saw me, she’d always yell about how her dad says that she lost her two front teeth last and that the tooth fairy still hasn’t given her money for it. Tulip though, I’ve never met. I assume it was his cat. “Ah, sorry to hear that,” I mumble and looked around. “If I see a cat, I’ll be sure to give you a call.” I smiled. Throwing away the bag in the trash can, I gave Jerry one last smile as he nodded and walked away.
Walking back into the house, I let Mush out of his cage and almost walked away until I notice something in the corner of my eye. The corner of his lips were red. His two front paws were red. And when I took a closer look… there seemed to be white and reddish fur and skin stuck in between his mouth. “Fucking God…” I whispered. Stumbling towards the kitchen and the back doors, I swung it open and looked around in my backyard. Nothing looked out of the blue until I realized that the corner of my fence had a hole in it. Running over there, I looked down at the ground to see that Mush had seem to dig through the dirt to give him an exit. No signs of a damn cat though.
It took two days to take Mush to the vet. And when they said that everything seemed to be okay with my dog, I insisted that something wasn’t right. I asked them if it was normal for dogs to bring in dead animals in the home and they claimed that it wasn’t common but nonetheless, they do give gifts. “Perhaps you haven’t been giving Mush enough attention? Does he have enough toys at home?” the vet asked me. A pretty woman, probably in her mid fourties’. Her brown hair was tied into a braid as she pet Mush whom seemed to be loving the attention. Odd.
“Yeah… I mean, yeah, he’s got plenty of toys. My grandparents— I mean, I was basically the only person other than my grandparents that he tolorated so I had to take him in when they passed… I’ve never heard from them that he killed animals and brought it to them though,” I explained, my hand reaching towards my hair and began to scratch the back of my head.
The vet nodded in understanding. “I would say to just watch him when he’s outside. He probably just wants the attention and the only way he gets them is when he brings you…” she trailed off, “gifts.”
After that, I tried everything. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Am I a bad dog parent? I’ve spoken to everyone about this. I’ve tried to enrich that little psycho with more treats and toys, encouraging good things with treats and when he continues to bring in dead animals, I would try to discourage it. I’ve tried to take him out on more walks and even put him in a doggy care when I know I’m going to be working long hours at my job. It’s gotten to the point where I’ve consider just putting him up for adoption. My parents though, didn’t want that. Saying that it’s what my grandparents wanted and I can’t just leave a dog like that. I can’t handle a dog that kills the wild and think it’s a gift.
January 1.
Hi everyone. I know I didn’t post this. But I’m thinking about keeping Mush inside. I didn’t want to post this, to be honest. I kept this in my drafts for the longest, hoping that his behavior would get better. I’ve hired a personal dog trainer but the trainer said that my dog was one of the most easygoing dogs there were. When we met up with the trainer, Mush listened to everything she was saying. It was as if he was trying to make me look like a weird person. How much I have to explain to people that he doesn’t like random people, to the weird gift giving. But when I say that, he’s as sweet as a chocolate cake.
Anyways. I’m afraid to admit this, but Mush has been… to say the least, becoming more creative with his gifts. He stopped with the newly dead animals but you know what he brings out instead? bird eggs. Who the fuck knows where he finds that but he leaves them around the house and I’d have to find them before it starts rotting. First time it happened, the house started smelling again and I thought it was another dead animal. Turns out, it was an egg that he kept under his blanket in his cage. Second time it happened, I found one lodged in between the wall and fridge.
It was 4:45AM when I had woken up to the sound of clattering. Mush’s walking. I found it not so weird that he was walking around during unusual times but as I listened closely, his footsteps began to fade for three minutes before I heard running up the stairs. The door to my bedroom creaked open as I saw Mush’s figure walk inside. I didn’t bother to sit up or turn on the lamp. The bed felt heavier as I felt Mush lay beside me. Just as I was about to go back into my slumber, I heard chewing. The sound of bones crushing. The sound of squish. Not his usual hard treats. But soft, tender chewing. Immediately sitting up, I turned on the lamp besides me and looked over at the demon of a dog. The fucking dog was staring at me as he continued to chew.
I called the police. They asked me series of questions, suspecting that I was the murderer. It wasn’t until one of the officers came over and informed the sheriff that they found who the arm belonged to. “Mr. Johnson’s heartbeat is still heard. They’re bringing him to the hospital now,” the officer said.
My eyes widen. “Jerry?” I asked.
“You know him?” the sheriff inquired. “How did your dog get into his home?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
The red and blue lights from the police vehicle was blurring my vision. “I— he was my neighbor. Of course I knew him. I—“
“Sheriff,” the other officer mumbles. “The others were looking at the scene and I don’t think his dog did it. No dog can smash a window like that…” he pointed at the front windows. “But there were bite marks that looked exactly like a dogs,” he explained ever so quietly.
The sheriff let out an exhausted or perhaps angry sigh. I wasn’t sure. They were planning to take me and Mush to the station for some questioning and I, as to their surprise, agreed too quick and almost laughed. I was going to get rid of his dog without the disapproval of my parents shaming me for putting him up for adoption or some bullshit.
I walked into my house and towards the cage that I put Mush in. As I rounded the corner, my eyes landed on his cage to find it empty.
It was… opened. No signs of distress or broken lock, just… opened.
The police said they’d keep an eye out for Mush. But in the meantime, they’d need to further investigate the issue. It’s been three days since I last heard from them. Three days since I seen Mush. But recently, I’ve been smelling something strange in my house again. Except this time, it didn’t smell like a rotting animal or an expired egg. I’m thinking about moving soon.
It was a day ago that I was about to head to work and as soon as I opened my front doors, I found a finger. A single finger. Just laying on my porch. I didn’t dare touch it. Instead, I called the police and have them continue to investigate it. I wasn’t going to get my hands dirty for some fucking dog.
Scratch that, I don’t think Mush is a dog anymore.