My neighbor Jack adopted a border collie two weeks ago. At least, that’s what I thought. Now I’m not so sure.
I first saw Toto out on a walk. He was sniffing some of the flowers growing next to the sidewalk as Jack waited, scrolling through his cell phone. “Wow! You got a dog!” I called out, waving.
“I certainly did! His name’s Toto. Border collie mix.”
Toto stopped sniffing the flowers and glanced up at me. I’d encountered many dogs on this street, and they ran the whole gamut of dog greetings: from curious sniffs to protective growling to jumping up and licking my face.
None of them just… stared… at me like Toto did.
“Wow, he’s beautiful! And so big for a collie mix!” I began to crouch down. “Can I pet him?”
“Oh–actually he’s a little shy,” Jack said. “Having a little trouble adapting, you know? But I’m sure he’ll warm up in a few days.” He tugged gently on the leash. “C’mon, Toto.”
I watched as they walked away from me.
***
The next time I saw Toto, I was dropping something off for Jack. He’d lent me his drill for a home improvement project and I’d never returned it.
But when I rang the doorbell, I didn’t hear the usual barking I did with other dog owners.
Instead–just the pat-pat-pat of feet against wood.
And then Toto’s face was in the glass inset of the door, staring out at me.
Not barking or growling or pawing at the door. Just… staring.
Before I could think anything of it, Jack’s footsteps sounded through the hall, and the door swung open. “Hey Amir!”
“Just wanted to give you this back.”
“Oh, thanks! Hey, why don’t you come in? I’m just about to pull some cookies out of the oven.”
Jack was an avid baker, and I couldn’t say no to his cookies. I stepped inside and followed the warm cinnamon smell to the kitchen. Toto followed behind me.
But I could tell something was… off.
I don’t have a dog, but I have a lot of friends with dogs. And we can always tell the dog is coming our way when we hear that mistakable clicking sound of its nails against the floor. It was instinctual at this point—hear that sound and scarf down the last bit of steak, or put the chocolate out of reach, or get ready to get licked on the face.
This dog… didn’t make that sound.
No clicking of nails against the wooden floor. Just… sort of a dull thump, thump, thump with each step.
I glanced back at Toto. And I realized his movements were a little odd, too. His steps were a little jerky, a little stiff, a little clumsy for a dog of his build. He wasn’t limping or anything—just, overall, the movements didn’t look quite right.
“Hope you like snickerdoodles,” Jack said, pulling the tray out of the oven.
“Wow. They look amazing.”
“My Nana’s recipe,” he said proudly. “Ate these every day after school. Fond memories.”
I picked up a cookie and took a bite.
But I had an audience. Toto was staring at me.
Well, that wasn’t weird. Dogs love to stare at people food. I was just about to ask Jack if these cookies were safe for dogs—but his phone went off. “Oh, sorry man, gotta take this,” he muttered as he disappeared down the hall and into the office.
I sat down at the kitchen table. Toto didn’t move—just stared at me from across the kitchen. Weirdly, he wasn’t licking his lips or anything as he stared hungrily at the cookie in my hand.
“You’re a weird dog. But I like you,” I said.
The dog continued to stare.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you any cookie. I don’t know if they’re safe.”
More staring.
“You’re going to like it here. It’s a good neighborhood.”
He canted his head.
And as he did… I realized there was something off. Something about the way the light bounced off his fur. It was a little too shiny, a little too perfectly-groomed, for a rough-and-tumble collie dog. I squinted at him, studying him—
And then I heard something.
A quiet, rushing sound. Like a whisper. And I guess I must’ve been imagining it, but it almost sounded like… God, it almost sounded like someone whispering.
“Help me.”
I stared at the dog—
“Sorry about that!” Jack said, wandering back in. “I just had to take that, it was a new client, and we’re trying to keep him… how do you like the cookies?”
“They were amazing,” I said, standing up. “But I’ve got to go. Mandy and the girls will be back from softball anytime now, and I’m supposed to have dinner ready.”
“Oh, dinner duty, huh?” He motioned at the snickerdoodles. “Take some back with you. Say you made ‘em from scratch.”
“Mandy knows I can’t bake like that. But thanks.”
I stepped out the front door, waving back at Jack and Toto. Jack waved, grinning. The dog just stared at me, as usual.
But this time, his black, glassy eyes sent chills down my spine.
***
“I swear. There’s something fucked up about that dog.”
The girls were asleep, and Mandy and I were enjoying some much-needed quality time. We sat on the couch with a bottle of wine, an episode of The Office in the background as we talked about our days.
Mandy was surprisingly interested in the story. “So you’ve never heard him bark?”
“No.”
“And he walks weird? And just… stares at you?”
“Yup.”
She shook her head, laughing. “That does sound really weird. Even weirder than Aunt Polly’s dog. Remember her?”
“Is that the one that makes the weird screeching sound?”
“Yeah.”
We laughed about it, hung out some more, and then eventually went to sleep. But even an hour after Mandy had fallen asleep, around midnight, I was lying wide awake. Thinking about that fucking dog.
And then I decided to do something really stupid.
I probably never would have done it, if I hadn’t drunk three glasses of wine. But with liquid courage, I crept downstairs—and slipped out of the house.
The lights were still on in Jack’s house. When I got there, I ducked behind his hydrangea and peered into the window.
Golden light spilled into the living room from the kitchen. Jack was sitting on the couch, looking at his laptop. Toto was lying on the floor, his black eyes glittering in the low light. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem to detect my presence at all.
After several minutes, Jack shut the laptop and disappeared down the hallway. Toto watched him, but didn’t follow.
I was about to go back home—
And then I saw it.
Toto stood up. And then, using the couch to balance himself, he stood up again.
He was standing on two legs.
I watched with wide eyes as he walked into the kitchen. Stood in front of the refrigerator. And then—a small opening appeared, smack-dab in the middle of Toto’s chest.
A human hand came out.
It grasped the refrigerator door, pulled it open. Greedily grabbed some food off the shelf. Then the ‘dog’ sat back down on the floor, cross-legged, and the hand—holding a leftover sandwich—disappeared into the hole.
I stared through the window, my heart pounding in my chest.
It’s a costume.
There’s… a person… in there.
I hightailed it out of there. Wrapped myself in blankets and lay next to my wife, wide awake, thoughts rolling through my head.
I didn’t expect to fall asleep. But I must have, because the next thing I knew, a loud noise woke me from a deep sleep.
Knocking.
Someone was knocking on my front door.
Bleary-eyed, I hobbled down the stairs. I looked through the peephole—and saw Jack. Standing on my front porch.
Looking incredibly angry.
I don’t know what he wants. But I think he knows that I know. That for some reason, he’s keeping what appears to be a full-grown man in his house, wearing a dog costume and pretending to be a dog.
Because when I went over there that night, still tipsy from the wine… I totally forgot he has security cameras.