The Innocence of Dogs

Daniel Lee

Katie awoke to the sound of a dog barking. Somewhere down the street Mr. Peterson’s retriever Kahlua had been startled by something, and gradually now bedroom lights began flipping on up and down the block.

“Shut that damn dog up, Peterson!” “It’s 4:30 in the morning, goddammit!” “Some of us have work, you know!” And so it went every night until finally the dog was let in, or the sun rose and the residents of Pinewood St. rose angrily from their beds and went to work. Each morning at 4:30 am, without fail, Kahlua started up with her growling and petrified barks, and each morning the neighbors growled back. Someone was out there, thought Katie, and none but the dog bore witness.

It was Wednesday, hump day, the slowest day of the week at the book store, and Katie slouched over the counter, head on her palms, fingers rapping gently on the delicate skin of her cheeks. Suddenly there rang a bell, a soft chime that drew her attention to the store entrance, through which stepped a gaunt albino man, perhaps sixty or seventy years old, wearing dark glasses and grasping tightly with his left fist a leash. At its end walked a dark brown retriever with blood red eyes. Kahlua, thought Katie. But who was this man? Was this Mr. Peterson? Not many had actually ever seen him, and what was known was more urban myth than known fact.

They said he wasn’t always an albino, that he was born quite tan but had once seen something that literally scared him white. They said he went blind in the war… again at the sight of something too unspeakable to utter. They said that frequently mysterious sounds could be heard coming from the old man’s attic, and that when he did emerge from his home, he did so only at night, and even then quite secretly.

But now here he was, moving into the store, hunched painfully over as though carrying on his back the full weight of the world’s woes. Katie approached him. “Can I help you find anything?”

“NO!!” the old man barked. And Katie jumped back to let him pass. Without instruction or prompt of any kind, the dog led the old man to a shelf marked SCIENCE, where the albino’s bony white index finger traced along the spine of each volume until it stopped on a strange hardbound copy of Gray’s Anatomy. Led by his companion, Mr. Peterson made his way to the front counter, where Katie, with shallow breaths and quick movements, rang the book up and took his money. Without a word, then, the old man took his leave, and it wasn’t until he was gone that the thought crossed Katie’s mind: Why would a blind man need a printed book?

Expectedly, at 4:30 the next morning, Kahlua’s voice rang out: first a deep, low growling rising up from inside her gut, followed by a sudden shriek, a sharp whimper, and then the barking began. One by one, the lights in the neighbors’ windows clicked on, and throughout the block could be heard the angry shouts of sleep-deprived boomers. “Goddammit, Peterson!” “Put that dog down! Put it down, dammit!” “I swear to God, Peterson! I’m going to kill your dog! I’m not even joking!” And on and on.

Katie swung her legs off her bed and rose sleepily to her feet. A long stretch, and she walked groggily to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, and took a long, cool drink. Back to bed, a warm snuggling into her pillow, and she pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. She imagined that sleeping beside her was her boyfriend, who had recently moved to Los Angeles. The two were very much in love, and the melancholy pain of his absence was still fresh in her heart. If only he were here, she sighed.

Suddenly a loud smack hit the window, and Katie jumped from her bed. Briefly in the still dark night she caught a glimpse of something horrible pressed against the glass, but what it was she couldn’t tell. It was instantly gone, tearing back across her lawn and leaping over the fence into the neighbor’s yard.

Katie immediately registered the loud barking of a dog, and the screaming of a gruff man down the street: “I’m coming over there, Peterson! You hear me!?”

Katie leapt to her feet and ran to the window. Outside the fence swayed slightly and the magnolia tree in old Mrs. Malick’s backyard began suddenly to shake violently. The moon shone brightly and Katie’s eyes widened in frozen shock as a dark shadow, much the size of a man but more the shape of a mountain gorilla, lifted itself into the tree, climbed rapidly to its peak, then jumped over another fence into Mr. Peterson’s yard. There was the loud cry of a panicked dog, a low whimper, a sudden yelp, then ferocious growling and snarling. Katie saw a light click on in the second floor of Mr. Peterson’s home, then another on the first. Faintly she heard the creaking of a sliding glass door, the smashing about of unseen objects, then, finally, simply, the barking of the dog.

The next day found Katie working the midday shift at the store. Thankfully she was this time not alone, sharing her shift with Renee, a junior at UC Northridge, from which Katie had recently graduated. Outside for lunch, Katie grabbed something from the deli and on her way back overheard two strangers discussing the previous night’s happenings:

“I’m going to kill that dog, I swear to God.” “No, you’re not. Come on.”

Katie walked back into the store and nearly tripped over a tiny Chihuahua connected by an umbilical leash to sweet old Mrs. Malick, who was purchasing a copy of the Bible. “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Katie.

“That’s alright, my dear,” replied Mrs. Malick, picking up her dog and kissing it on the nose, “you may not have seen him, but little Boopsie saw you. Isn’t that right, Mr. Boopsie? Dogs always know more than we suspect, don’t they?” It was then that Katie realized how much the dog was trembling.

Evening came and with it Katie’s return home. Upon grabbing her mail, she noticed a strange package addressed to Mrs. Malick, apparently dropped off on her doorstep by mistake. Katie picked it up, felt something inside move, as though scratching to get out, and dropped the box suddenly. It hit the ground with a crunch and lay there still. With one foot she nudged it slightly, but nothing out of the ordinary occurred.

Moments later a ring at the door prompted Mrs. Malick to answer and find standing before her the nice young girl from next door. “Why, hello, dear.”

“Hi, Mrs. Malick. Um… I think this is for you, it came to my house by mistake.”

“Oh? I don’t… oh, yes. Please come in…” she stepped back into the house, motioning for Katie to follow, which she did.

Inside Katie saw the imported interiors of a thousand old homes, bits and pieces of a full life strewn about, all painted with a layer of dust. The walls were a rich crimson, and the windows were all framed in classical drapes. All along the walls and shelves were pinned and propped black & white photographs. Most were of a young woman, in many she was surrounded by friends. “Is this you?” Katie asked.

“I’m sorry, my dear?”

“In these pictures. Is this you?”

“I… um… yes. That’s right. In… it was years ago… would you like some lemonade?”

“Um… sure.”

Mrs. Malick disappeared behind a wall and began clanking around in the kitchen. As she poured the drinks Katie’s eyes moved to a series of what appeared to be chronologically organized photographs of the young Mrs. Malick and a thin, handsome man. In each photograph the two were several years older than in the last, and roughly three-quarters of the way through, the man mysteriously disappeared from the pictures. Still, the sequence continued, until finally Mrs. Malick stood alone, at much the age she was now.

The old woman emerged from the kitchen with two glasses of lemonade and some cookies. “Here you go, dear.”

Katie took one of the glasses and stuffed a cookie in her mouth, “Was this your husband?”

“Heavens no. If Harold had known about Daniel… Lord knows… no… my Harold was killed in the war. Daniel I began to see while Harold was away.”

“What happened to him? Did he die too?”

“Er… no… he went away. He left. But… drink your lemonade, dear.”

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.” Katie brought the glass to her lips and tipped her head back, felt the cool juice stretch out its fingers in her chest. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and set the glass down on a table. “Thanks for the lemonade. I should go.”

“Oh? Alright…” Mrs. Malick set down the tray, took the package from Katie, and started toward the front door. It was then that little Boopsie ran down the stairs and began yapping at the old woman. She promptly put down the box and picked up the pet. “Oh, Mr. Boopsie. What is it? Are you hungry? Is it time for din din?”

Katie was at the door, “He’s a nice dog.”

“Oh, he’s wonderful, dear. He’s so sweet. Such a loving little soul. So knowing.”

Katie let out a slight, breathy laugh, she didn’t know why.

“I found him some years ago, he was close to dying. They would have killed him if I hadn’t saved him.”

“Hmm.” Katie nodded. “Well…” she reached for the doorknob.

“Daniel didn’t leave me, if that’s what you think,” said Mrs. Malick. “He just left.”

“Ooh… I’m sorry.”

“Nobody knows where he went. One day he was just gone.”

“That’s too bad. I’m really sorry.”

“It was probably for the best. If Harold had found out about him…” and she trailed off. “Thank you for the package, my dear.”

That night Katie dreamt of apes. And in the subconscious collage unraveling in her mind was laid out the voodoo sprawl of some jungle religion, at its peripheries a reptilian fear, primal and unleashed. Now the fog rolled in, and she couldn’t see who it was that grabbed her from behind. She closed her eyes, let out a shallow breath… and jumped from her bed in terror as the night air was filled with the horrifying shriek of a screaming animal.

Outside there was a thunderous commotion, and she could hear the sound of loud scratching on the side of her house. Slowly she moved to the window, one foot after the next, drawing closer, closer, closer… a strong wind picked up, and the magnolia in Mrs. Malick’s yard rustled and creaked, arching itself painfully into the current. Now Katie stood before the window, the scratching louder here, and bent down to look through. That was when a thick wet deformity smacked against the glass and stared up at her, its blood red eyes small in its oversized gorilla head. She screamed, and the creature peeled away, leaving behind a slippery trail on the window. Katie watched as it tore across the lawn, leapt over the fence, pulled itself into the bending tree, and jumped into Mr. Peterson’s yard, from which now began the frantic barking of the dog.

Again in the second floor a light came on, another soon after on the first. Again Katie heard the opening of a sliding glass door, but now over the raw barking of the retriever she could hear what sounded like a man’s voice raised in anger. From down the street a louder cry was heard: “Peterson! Goddammit this is the last time! Do you hear me!? Shut that dog up or I’m coming over there!!”

Suddenly the sky was filled with a bright white light, and for a split second Katie thought she saw something leap back over the fence into Mrs. Malick’s yard. The crack of thunder followed and she bolted from the room into the front yard, running as fast as she could, barefoot in the drizzling rain, to her neighbor’s door. “Mrs. Malick!! Mrs. Malick!! Get out of there!!!”

Kahlua’s barking continued, and from down the street a man’s voice shot out, “That’s it, Peterson! I’m coming over there! I warned you!!”

Another flash of light, a crack of thunder, and Katie began pounding on the door, “Mrs. Malick!!! Wake up!!! Mrs. Malick!!! Mrs. Malick!!!”

From behind her Katie heard a deep growling begin, and she slowly turned around. Standing before her, hunched over, its enormous forearms reaching past its knees, its dark, matted fur wet and black in the pouring rain, stood the creature. Of its features she could make out only its shape, the enormous gait of some long dead primate, and the piercing of two small red eyes in its large black skull. She froze, stark white dread in her bones, and could not move as the thing took one step toward her. Then another. Then another.

Katie suddenly swung back and began pounding furiously on the door, “MRS. MALICK!!!! OPEN THE DOOR!!!! MRS. MALICK!!!!”

Next door the dog was still barking, drawing close now was the angry voice of the man up the street, “GodDAMMIT, Peterson!!! People have to sleep!!” And now Katie could feel hot breath on the back of her neck. It stank of death, of devoured antelope and slaughtered bison. Suddenly the man’s voice stopped, and Katie heard him say, “HEY!!!” The hot breath behind her moved away, and from the corners of her vision she could make out a gruff man, the same she had seen outside the book store the day before, standing in the rain staring in her direction. Suddenly a black shape moved toward him, and he let out a startled cry, “What the fuck!?” With one swift motion the creature tackled the man to the ground and began ripping out his entrails, stuffing them into its ravenous mouth. The rain was violent now, the man’s hideous screams drowned out by the barking of the dog and the sudden crash of thunder which now coincided with a bright white flash. For one frozen moment Katie caught glimpse of what appeared to be six-inch fangs jutting out from below a snub gorilla nose. Monstrous hands ripped out organs and ribs, cracking and tearing, until finally all that remained of the man was a large bloody stain, washing away in the falling water.

That was when the monster looked up and locked eyes with her. “FUCK!!!” she screamed and took off around the house. She could hear a wet galloping behind her and with one hand she pulled open the first door she saw: a fruit cellar, unlocked, leading into Mrs. Malick’s basement. She flew down the steps, slipped on the last one and fell hard on the dirt floor. Standing, she fumbled around in the darkness for a light, her hands finding a thin string dangling from the low ceiling. She pulled it, and for one second a light blew up and burned out, its fuse dead. In the doorway to the cellar a black figure appeared and, silhouetted against the pounding rain, began moving down into the basement.

Katie took a step back and pinned herself against the wall as the creature lifted its nose and sniffed the air. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest, outside the barking of the dog, and above the rapping of the rain against the roof of the house. Slowly the monster moved in her direction and a deep tremor rose up from its throat, a volcano of vocal lava. Katie wanted to shut her eyes, to curl up and wince in terror, but to move, she knew, was to die, and she had to keep her eyes on the thing. Outside the barking of the dog became muffled, submerged, and suddenly Katie heard a sharp scratching somewhere in the room. The creature heard it too, and turned its eyes to the corner, where, eyes adjusting to the dark, Katie could now see there was a door. From behind it a yapping could be heard, the voice of a small dog, and it was then Katie realized she also heard another barking nearby: the voice of Kahlua coming from behind her, from what could only be inside the wall.

She saw the creature was confused, and as it moved slowly toward the door, Katie seized the moment and began pounding furiously on the wall behind her, “HELP!! I’M IN HERE!!! HELP!!! PLEASE!!!!” She heard the monster behind her grunt and begin moving toward her, still she continued pounding, “FOR GOD’S SAKE, GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!! PLEASE!!!”

There was a loud snarl behind her and before she knew it she’d been picked up and hurled across the room. She smashed into the opposite wall and fell to the floor, sobbing. By her right hand she felt a box, turned to look and saw beside her the package she had given to Mrs. Malick the day before, now overturned and empty. From inside and across the dirt floor she saw small paw prints leading to the door from which the yapping could be heard.

There was a grunt above her, and in one moment she was again in the air, being thrown back at the original wall. Now she hit the wall and kept going, crashing through to the other side. She opened her eyes and found she was in some sort of tunnel. Suddenly she felt something cold and wet touch her forehead and she panicked, lashed out, and smacked Kahlua across the face. When she realized it was the dog, Katie picked herself up and followed her down the tunnel, running away from the pursuing monster.

The tunnel was perhaps seventy-five, maybe one hundred, feet long, and down it Katie tore after the racing dog. Behind her she could hear the galloping sound of the approaching beast. Up ahead there appeared a light, and when she found herself directly below it, Katie reached up and pulled herself into it.

She was in a musty old study that stank of formaldehyde, the walls all lined with bookshelves and pictures. From one corner of the room she heard a voice cry out, “Who’s there!!?” She turned to see, standing in the doorway in his robe, a hunched-over old albino man with empty eye sockets.

Katie leapt to her feet, “Mr. Peterson! We have to get out of here!”

“Who are you!??”

From inside the pit they heard growling, barking, biting. “It’s late tonight,” said the albino, moving to a dresser and pulling out a large handgun. “But tonight it ends.”

Up from the pit leapt Kahlua, followed by an explosion of dirt and floorboards. Now before Katie and the old man stood the fully erect monster. It let out a deafening roar and took a step toward them. Mr. Peterson lifted his gun and fired, missing completely. The creature took another step. The albino again pulled the trigger, again missing and leaving a smoking hole in the wall. The creature drew back its massive arm and lashed out. Mr. Peterson screamed in agony and Katie shut her eyes tightly. When she opened them again the old man’s gun was gone. With a loud SMACK the monster slashed Peterson across the face, sending the albino crashing to the floor in pain.

That was when Kahlua attacked the monster, jumping up and tearing out a chunk of skin and hair. The beast roared angrily, grabbed the dog, and threw it across the room, into the dresser. On the floor beside the old man Katie saw his gun, still smoking. Without thinking, she picked it up and aimed square at the animal. The creature turned, stared directly at her, and lunged.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Click. Click. Click. Katie opened her eyes and saw, lying on the ground before her, not a dead monster but a dead old man, no one she recognized.

“You did it…” said Mr. Peterson, rising painfully to his feet. “You did what I could never do.”

It was then that Katie fully absorbed her surroundings. The photos on the walls, she now realized, were exactly the same chronologically organized series as those in Mrs. Malick’s home. A wave of shock ran through her body as she turned to look at the albino, “Mr. Peterson, what’s your first name?”

“Daniel…”

“Is this you in these photos?”

“On the wall? Yes, yes it is. With my beloved Michelle… oh, how I miss her…”

Katie’s eyes turned to the body on the floor, “Is this Harold?”

Mr. Peterson let out a deep sigh, “He told me I could never see her again… that he would kill me… I was so frightened, what could I do? But he wouldn’t leave me be. He came after me… and he took my eyes…”

Katie saw now the deep scars torn around the old man’s eye sockets, “But how… what is he?”

The albino lowered his head, “There were things worse than memories brought back from the war. Sometimes those who fight monsters can themselves become… monsters.” And he left it at that.

But Katie couldn’t stay quiet, “Do you know what happened to the woman in these photos?”

“No… I never did see her again…”

And Katie smiled.

The sun had by now risen, the rain stopped, and the residents of Pinewood St. were making their way to work. A knock on Mrs. Malick’s door prompted her to answer and find standing before her the nice young girl from next door, along with someone she hadn’t seen in decades. “D-Daniel?”

The albino’s eyebrows raised, “Michelle?”

“Oh, my Lord… how… oh, it doesn’t matter…” and she threw her arms around him in excitement. “Where have you been?”

“I’ve been right beside you, all this time.”

Katie smiled broadly, her face and clothes caked in dirt, dried blood encrusted to her forehead. From behind her a familiar bark was heard, and Kahlua appeared. A sudden yap from inside the house, and Boopsie arrived. The two dogs looked at one another, and began sniffing. Then Kahlua nearly swallowed the Chihuahua with a big wet lick. The trio laughed.

“They like each other!” said Mrs. Malick.

Suddenly a mysterious white car pulled up to the sidewalk. Its door opened, and Katie’s heart skipped a beat. Out stepped her boyfriend, up to visit for the weekend. She let out a sigh of joy, and the two ran to embrace. There, beneath the copper spheroid of the rising sun, they kissed a long, pure kiss of immeasurable passion, until they were interrupted by the sounds of immeasurable dog passion. They looked, and laughed.

“They really like each other!” said Mrs. Malick. And with that she turned to Mr. Peterson, ran her calloused, wrinkled old hand along his chalk white cheek, and said, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I love you, Michelle…” he replied, and pressed his lips to hers with the devotion only the aged can know.

Nearby Kahlua and Boopsie sniffed and licked each other in the fervent rapture of new infatuation.

And further off, Katie gazed into the eyes of her own Daniel, overcome with the joyful knowledge that theirs was more than puppy love.

The End