01 Feb I Don’t Think My Dog is Really a Dog
I’m currently hiding in my closet shaking in fear. I’m typing this out on my phone so I’m sorry if theres a formatting issue or grammar but I don’t really give a fuck right now. In case I don’t make an update to this post please report this to the authorities or anyone please I don’t know what to fucking do.
During April of 2018 I adopted a 5 month old puppy from the pound. I was lucky enough to get her out of that hell hole and into my loving home. She was a Border Collie mix and her name was Nelly. I don’t know what the fuck happened to her but what I have now is not my dog.
She was a timid little pup when I first took her home. I remember she was inside for at least 5 minutes before she peed on the carpet. I could only laugh and kiss her because I was so happy. She slept in my bed that night, and for many more nights to come. She only weighed maybe 6 or 7 kgs when I first picked her up.
The months that followed were amazing, for the first time since I graduated high school I was over the moon. Everyday when I got home from work she would rush to greet me with her lead dangling from her mouth, her tail wagging wildly. She absolutely loved to grab the newspaper from the mailbox with me. She was also an awesome chick magnet but that’s besides the point. She loved my neighbour, a nice man named Paul who’s wife had recently passed away from breast cancer. He was an older gentleman, well into his 50s but never looked a day over 40. He liked to throw a barbecue for the few neighbours we had in our little rural community. He always made an effort so we all returned the favour with bringing food and beer. Things began to change in December of 2018.
In the early hours of the morning on the 5th I believe, Nelly woke me up. I grabbed my glasses from the bedside table and flicked on the lamp. She was stood about a meter from the door, pointing right at it. I could hear a low growl emanating from her. Curious I got out of bed and opened the door, to her surprise there was nothing there. I thought that would have been the end of it. A few more days pass and on the 9th it happened again, early hours of the morning and pointing at the door. This continued for the next week.
I believe this is when Nelly disappeared. At about 2 am on the 21st Nelly woke me up and wanted to go outside. She would do this once every few weeks so it was nothing out of the ordinary. She would wake me up by licking my face and then sulk and lay down in front of the door if I wouldn’t get up.
Behind my backyard is a forest that extends for miles, sometimes Nelly liked to hunt down rabbits and possums when we would go for a walk through the woods. When I let her out that night she walked to about 5 meters before the tree line. I watched her pee and she started her way back to the house. This is when things didn’t go exactly as planned. She must have heard something because she whipped around and pointed at the trees and growled. I thought it might have been a rabbit, but thinking back on it now it was probably something much worse.
She barked then made a bee line for the trees, she dissapeared into the thickness before I heard more barking. Then nothing. Absolute silence. I was about to grab a torch and put on my red bands but then the trees started rustling. There was no wind. It was…distressing to say the least. Then they stopped. I called out her name and waited. About a minute later she wandered out of the trees and back inside. I thought nothing of it and promptly went back to sleep. I should have thought about it.
As the months continued things got weird. She stopped wanting to go on walks, she cut back on her food and began to get skinnier. I decided to change up her diet from dog biscuits to meat. She liked that. She really liked that. Sometimes she would run off into the woods to go hunting for rabbits or anything she could get her paws on. I also noticed she began to get bigger. Not fat bigger because as she got bigger it looked like she got skinnier. Then she stopped playing with her toys, that weirded me out the most because her beloved squeaky duck toy I got for her the day she came home was always with her inside the house. Now it lay gathering dust in the corner of my room. But she began to show a liking to the barbecue get together Paul would throw. A little too much. Honestly that should’ve been a warning sign. That day was the 26th of February, 2019. In the following weeks, people unfortunately died.
It was small to begin with, that makes it sound better than it was. Old people died first. As sad as it sounded, we all thought it was because of old age. Then we got the details. Horrific details. They were murders, violent and bloody murders. We were absolutely shit scared then. Paul and I started communicating a lot more than we used to, a text every hour or so just to check in or maybe a phone call or a two. He told me I should keep the key for my gun safe in the lock in case of an emergency. I listened. I listened because I trusted him. I listened because he was one of my only friends.
This brings us to tonight, the 24th of March. I awoke to the sound of gunfire. I rushed over to my curtains and yanked them open; Paul’s house was on fire. I immediately rushed to put on some thick clothes and grabbed a flashlight and my phone ready to dial 111 for a firetruck. At the time I didn’t even notice my bedroom door was open when I clearly remember closing before I went to bed that night, nor did I notice Nelly was missing. I yanked open my back door and I froze. It was illuminated by the bright fire of Paul’s home. It stood on its hind legs, tall and lanky. Completely black with white highlights over its body. The eyes were almost a glowing red. Its claws were massive, and sadly one set was clearly protruding through Paul’s chest.
I was…I actually don’t know. It felt like so long ago even though it was only an hour ago. I couldn’t feel a thing. I couldn’t even feel the flashlight slip through my fingers and land heavily on the concrete ground of my back patio. I instantly realised my mistake and I saw it look at me. It looked me deep in the eye and I saw her. Her. My sweet girl. My Nelly. Or more rather, what was pretending to be Nelly.
It dropped Paul to the ground and terrifyingly reared its head into the air and howled deeply. It sounded like a mix between the sound of absolute pain and what I could only describe as Lupin’s howl from Prisoner of Azkaban. That was the only motivation I needed to run. I hauled ass into my bedroom and dived into my closet and shut the door. I covered myself in dirty washing and stayed still. It felt like a layed there for a few million years.
It walked, or skulked more rather, into my room. I heard it’s claws clatter across the hard wood floor before stopping. I couldn’t see a fucking thing, but I heard it howl once again before it sounded like it tore my bed to fucking bits. I heard glass smash and hard objects collide with the walls. Then nothing. Complete silence once again before I heard I skulk off and leave the house. Probably to finish eating my friend.
It’s now 7 am. I can hear sirens outside but I’m too afraid to leave lest that thing is waiting for me on the other side of the door. The inky thing I could do for the last few hours was type this out and do research.
But it didn’t make sense. I googled everything I remembered about that thing. I got a result that I’m fairly certain is what it is. It didn’t make fucking sense. I read pages upon pages of this fucking thing, looked at artwork, folk lore. EVERYTHING.
it doesn’t make sense. The research says the location of the creature is found in the United states, usually on native American land.
So what in the living FUCK is a God damn Wendigo doing in rural New Zealand?