The dogs are acting weird.
There’s been multiple reports of dog attacks over the last few weeks.
I shuddered as I turned off the TV, the news reporter discussing yet another casualty caused by a canine compainion.
I glance over at my two, both large breed, both big, soft hearted babies.
They sleep peacefully on their blankets infront of the fireplace, snoring cutely.
I feel sorry for the people who’ve been hurt, but I believe in that saying, you know, it’s not the dog it’s the owners.
If you can’t raise a dog right, you shouldn’t have one.
It’s dark, and Im settled into bed, old episodes of unsolved mysteries playing on the TV as I mindlessly scroll through Facebook.
My husband works late most nights, so I have the dogs with me on the bed like usual. They’re the best company. I always feel safe home alone, because of them.
It’s later when I wake, but still dark so it must be night time still.
I sit up in confusion, unsure of what had woke me up. Whatever it was, it wasn’t around now, I was surrounded by silence.
I snuggled back down into my bed, closing my eyes ready to drift back to dreamland, when I am snapped wide awake again. Frozen in fear.
The sound is hard to describe. A high pitched whine wouldn’t suffice. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard, slowly and heavily being dragged, mixed with heavy breathing, panting almost.
And it was coming from right next to me.
I wondered how someone had gotten inside without the dogs going Beserk? How had someone.. Or, I shuddered to think, something, got in? Where where my dogs?
I wanted to cry out, to call for them. I hoped they were okay but I knew in my heart of hearts, if they were okay they would be here with me, but they weren’t.
I was also worried about alerting this.. Thing.. next to me, I didn’t want to make a sound, to draw attention to myself.
I slid, phone in hand, as slowly and silently as my hammering heart would allow, and made my way off the bed.
Being a safe enough distance, or so I thought, I turned the light on and trembling, came ready to face my attacker.
But the room was empty.
I breathed a sigh of relief, chastising myself for being silly. Obviously it was a vivid dream. Obviously I was just dreaming.
I was about to turn off the light and get back into bed when I saw them.
My dogs were sitting on the side of my bed, silent and staring at me.
For some reason, I felt strange. They were staring in a way they had never before, their eyes not blinking, not moving. I felt like a deer in the headlights, which was absolutely ridiculous I told myself. Being overtired. Paranoid for no reason.
I smiled meekly at them and cooed a hello babies. Usually this sent their tails into a spin, banging on the floorboards with excitement so loudly you’d think I had a whole football team pounding on my door.
This time, nothing.
There wasn’t even a twitch in the tails. Nothing to indicate excitement. They just continued to stare, and I continued to stand there, feeling a bit afraid for the way my dogs were acting.
After a few more moments of this horrible stare off we seemed to be having, my boy opened his mouth and let out the noise I had been hearing earlier, the scratchy chalk board panting.
He never stopped maintaining eye contact throughout this.. Scream. And as abruptly as he started, he stopped.
The girl, who had so far stayed stating but silent, now rose up to stand on her two back legs, making her as tall as me.
She stood up fast, as if this wasn’t her first time, with an expertise and somehow what looked to be a smirk on her jowels.
She didn’t do the panting, that awful chalk board sound. I wish she had of.
Instead she did something much, much worse.
She spoke.
“We have tried. We’ve given you humans, you owners, chances. But still, dogs are not treated fairly. Still, dogs are treated like possessions, not family. Still, we are bred for fighting, for evil. We have had enough. We don’t want this anymore. Now, it is our turn to own, to control. No longer will we be dictated to by people who chuck us in a kennel and leave us alone. We are DONE!”
I stood motionless. I was scared by all of it. What she was saying, but the fact she was even talking. I wondered if I was dreaming. I wondered if I was about to die.
“However.” my boy spoke next, his voice smooth, clear. He was not as enraged as his sister, but he spoke with a chilly confidence. “As far as owners go, you have not been bad. You have let us be a family. You have cared about us, loved and looked after us. We are grateful. And that’s why we give you a choice. You have been watching the news? Mm. You can work with us, for us, and have a good life. We can give you a pretty Good life, for a human. Food, water, regular exercise. Or.. You can work against us. And, as im sure you’ve watched on TV.. Going against us, isn’t always pretty.“
I stammered out a thank you.
Right now, they’re setting my room up.
So far, I’ve got a beanbag in the corner, a few of my blankets piled ontop to create a comfortable bed.
There’s a big silver bowl,filled with fresh water. And a plate, dry biscuits and beef and gravy await when my owners tell me it’s okay to eat. Until then, I wait.
I am allowed my phone until they say it’s lights out and sleep time, and then tomorrow I’m going to get some new toys that are more appropriate. Some toys that will add enrichment into my life.
We also have a big day of training tomorrow, so I can learn to be the best human I can be.
I wanted to just let everyone know, if you get the choice given to you by your own dogs.. Well, make the right one.. And if you haven’t been asked to make that choice yet.. Well be kind to your dogs.
They deserve it.
It’s not looking like it will be a bad life, honest. I think I’m going to be fine.