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I adopted a dog from the shelter but I’m starting to think he isn’t a dog at all
“Buster, Ace, Milo…” my fiancé Victor continued to list potential names for the new addition to our family. I wanted a baby, he said not yet, and so we settled on getting another dog. We already had three -my Welsh Terriers (Goldie and Teddy) and his Miniature Poodle (Fifi)- but what harm could one more do? We’d both had our other dogs since they were puppies and had planned on doing the same for the next one until a friend recommended rescuing an older dog. After looking into it, we found an adorable pup named Joey. He was a one year old English Mastiff mix, a mutt unlike our other dogs, but he had those same captivating brown eyes. His previous owners gave him up because they hadn’t expected him to get so big, but we didn’t care about that. We felt he belonged with us, no matter his size. After all, he was clearly a gentle giant.
Upon meeting him, I realised just how big he really was, but Victor seemed to have fallen in love already so I didn’t comment on it. Joey was playful but chill and I knew my reservations would leave in no time. *I mean, how could I look into those big blue eyes and not love him?* I thought to myself, *Wait a second- blue? I could’ve sworn his eyes were brown a moment ago. Huh, strange…*
When we brought him home, Goldie and Teddy didn’t take much notice whilst Fifi growled and hid behind the couch. Joey didn’t get aggressive back, he simply looked up at me in confusion, so I hoped that in time they’d get along better. Not much changed in most aspects of our life. Fifi didn’t seem to be liking him any more, but I knew to give it time. She wasn’t exactly struck on my two when Victor and I first moved in together, but now they cuddle and play all the time. Still, it seemed her fears were getting *worse*. I’d wake up in the night to find her in the strangest hiding places, shaking and whimpering, but unharmed. Joey was always nearby, just looking around perplexed by the situation. One day, I could’ve sworn I saw him bare his teeth at her in the mirror when my back was turned, but only for a split second as if he didn’t want me to see.
I became more on edge around him, keeping him in the kitchen during nights while the other dogs stayed in the bedroom. He didn’t seem bothered by this arrangement and Victor said I was being paranoid, but not long after all our food started going bad. It was as if somebody had taken all the refridgerated items out for the night, even eaten some, then put it all back in before we woke up. As I held rotten food in my hands and looked into his eyes, I knew something was wrong with that dog and I felt he was challenging me.
I put a kennel in the backyard and kept him there overnight instead. Then dead animals started showing up all over the grass, their organs completely missing. When I so much as raised my voice at him for committing such a heinous act, he snarled at me. He was showing more and more aggression, not just to me but to our other three dogs, especially Fifi. When I mentioned to Victor I was worried Joey was going to hurt her, he got mad. “How could you say such a sweet, gentle dog would ever do that? And to Fifi too? You know how much she means to me!” (Fifi and another dog belonged to his sister, but his sister and the other dog passed in a car accident a couple weeks before we met). I didn’t want to upset him further so I dropped it.
That was until I woke up to whimpers -no, *screams*- in the middle of the night and ran downstairs to see Joey in the living room tearing Fifi to shreds. There was insides everywhere and I don’t think I’ll ever get the image of her blood smudged around his mouth out of my mind. I have never cried out for help so loudly. Victor came running and instinctively turned the lights on to see …pieces of a stuffed toy strewn around the room. He then proceeded to berate me for my behaviour. “Seriously, Rachel? What the fuck’s been up with you lately? Why are you so out to get this innocent dog?” All the while Joey’s eyes bore into me, looking more sinister and soulless than ever. I’d had enough of the mind games.
The final straw was three nights ago. I awoke to a figure looming over me in the darkness. It was grotesque, its limbs looked out of place and every part of it looked disproportionate and broken. At first, I wanted to scream, but I didn’t. Its eyes met mine and immediately I knew what it was. Joey. Out of his disguise. I turned to Victor and shook him awake as fast as I could, but by the time he turned over Joey was a dog again, sitting beside the bed. Victor just looked at me, shook his head in disapproval, and went back to sleep. I sent Joey out of the room and did the same.
The next morning, I was surprised with a weekend getaway. We hastily packed our bags and Victor solemnly said goodbye to Joey as the place only allowed small dogs. A friend would be coming over later to pick Joey up to stay with him while we were away. I didn’t tell Victor, but I was relieved. For the first time in the past month, I felt that me and my babies were safe. We hopped into the car and headed toward our destination. Once we were a good 50 miles away from home, Victor said to me, “You know last night, right before you, uh, woke me up?” Dreading the argument that was sure to come, I nodded and he continued. “Well, uh… I saw it too. Anthony’s not picking Joey up, an animal rescue is. I told them he was aggressive and uncontrollable. They’re um, going to put him down. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”
We’re currently at my parents’ house until we feel comfortable back at ours, if we ever do. Still, I’m not so sure this is the end.
“Buster, Ace, Milo…” my fiancé Victor continued to list potential names for the new addition to our family. I wanted a baby, he said not yet, and so we settled on getting another dog. We already had three -my Welsh Terriers (Goldie and Teddy) and his Miniature Poodle (Fifi)- but what harm could one more do? We’d both had our other dogs since they were puppies and had planned on doing the same for the next one until a friend recommended rescuing an older dog. After looking into it, we found an adorable pup named Joey. He was a one year old English Mastiff mix, a mutt unlike our other dogs, but he had those same captivating brown eyes. His previous owners gave him up because they hadn’t expected him to get so big, but we didn’t care about that. We felt he belonged with us, no matter his size. After all, he was clearly a gentle giant.
Upon meeting him, I realised just how big he really was, but Victor seemed to have fallen in love already so I didn’t comment on it. Joey was playful but chill and I knew my reservations would leave in no time. *I mean, how could I look into those big blue eyes and not love him?* I thought to myself, *Wait a second- blue? I could’ve sworn his eyes were brown a moment ago. Huh, strange…*
When we brought him home, Goldie and Teddy didn’t take much notice whilst Fifi growled and hid behind the couch. Joey didn’t get aggressive back, he simply looked up at me in confusion, so I hoped that in time they’d get along better. Not much changed in most aspects of our life. Fifi didn’t seem to be liking him any more, but I knew to give it time. She wasn’t exactly struck on my two when Victor and I first moved in together, but now they cuddle and play all the time. Still, it seemed her fears were getting *worse*. I’d wake up in the night to find her in the strangest hiding places, shaking and whimpering, but unharmed. Joey was always nearby, just looking around perplexed by the situation. One day, I could’ve sworn I saw him bare his teeth at her in the mirror when my back was turned, but only for a split second as if he didn’t want me to see.
I became more on edge around him, keeping him in the kitchen during nights while the other dogs stayed in the bedroom. He didn’t seem bothered by this arrangement and Victor said I was being paranoid, but not long after all our food started going bad. It was as if somebody had taken all the refridgerated items out for the night, even eaten some, then put it all back in before we woke up. As I held rotten food in my hands and looked into his eyes, I knew something was wrong with that dog and I felt he was challenging me.
I put a kennel in the backyard and kept him there overnight instead. Then dead animals started showing up all over the grass, their organs completely missing. When I so much as raised my voice at him for committing such a heinous act, he snarled at me. He was showing more and more aggression, not just to me but to our other three dogs, especially Fifi. When I mentioned to Victor I was worried Joey was going to hurt her, he got mad. “How could you say such a sweet, gentle dog would ever do that? And to Fifi too? You know how much she means to me!” (Fifi and another dog belonged to his sister, but his sister and the other dog passed in a car accident a couple weeks before we met). I didn’t want to upset him further so I dropped it.
That was until I woke up to whimpers -no, *screams*- in the middle of the night and ran downstairs to see Joey in the living room tearing Fifi to shreds. There was insides everywhere and I don’t think I’ll ever get the image of her blood smudged around his mouth out of my mind. I have never cried out for help so loudly. Victor came running and instinctively turned the lights on to see …pieces of a stuffed toy strewn around the room. He then proceeded to berate me for my behaviour. “Seriously, Rachel? What the fuck’s been up with you lately? Why are you so out to get this innocent dog?” All the while Joey’s eyes bore into me, looking more sinister and soulless than ever. I’d had enough of the mind games.
The final straw was three nights ago. I awoke to a figure looming over me in the darkness. It was grotesque, its limbs looked out of place and every part of it looked disproportionate and broken. At first, I wanted to scream, but I didn’t. Its eyes met mine and immediately I knew what it was. Joey. Out of his disguise. I turned to Victor and shook him awake as fast as I could, but by the time he turned over Joey was a dog again, sitting beside the bed. Victor just looked at me, shook his head in disapproval, and went back to sleep. I sent Joey out of the room and did the same.
The next morning, I was surprised with a weekend getaway. We hastily packed our bags and Victor solemnly said goodbye to Joey as the place only allowed small dogs. A friend would be coming over later to pick Joey up to stay with him while we were away. I didn’t tell Victor, but I was relieved. For the first time in the past month, I felt that me and my babies were safe. We hopped into the car and headed toward our destination. Once we were a good 50 miles away from home, Victor said to me, “You know last night, right before you, uh, woke me up?” Dreading the argument that was sure to come, I nodded and he continued. “Well, uh… I saw it too. Anthony’s not picking Joey up, an animal rescue is. I told them he was aggressive and uncontrollable. They’re um, going to put him down. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”
We’re currently at my parents’ house until we feel comfortable back at ours, if we ever do. Still, I’m not so sure this is the end.
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