There was a dog hanging around the house last night-howling the saddest most mournful of songs. I couldn't help but think he lost his best friend. He kept at it for the longest time, running from one window to the next.
I became fearful that the poor animal may be rabid and I pictured him foaming at the mouth like Old Yeller. I got out of bed and sneaked around the house, closing windows after he passed so he wouldn't break through the screens and devour my cat, Ed, and I. I smashed a finger in one of the windows when I failed to remove it from the space between window and window sill. Now I was afraid and in pain. Ed was alert and frightened, too.
Most nights, around three AM, Ed tells me he wants to go outside and play. Last night, he held himself close by me, but never leaving the bed, jerking his head in the direction of each new howl.
I went to the living room and turned on the porch lights. When I peeked out the window, I spied the prettiest mixture of what appeared to be bull-dog and Labrador. The animal had the shiniest black coat I had ever seen and I surmised he weighed in at around 70 pounds. His very small eyes revealed no soul inside.
He saw me and ran to the picture window where I stood. I was able to close the curtains before he got too close, but that didn't stop him from standing on his hindquarters, putting his paws on the window. I feared he might break through as he scratched and whined at the window. Eventually, though, getting no response to the whining and scratching, he resumed running window to window; howling as if I could understand what he was trying to impart. I determined to go back to sleep and deal with him in the daylight, when things are not so scary. Ed I lay in bed, listening and pretending to sleep.
At five AM, the birds began to sing amid the howls, so I knew the sun was on its way. I rose and got dressed, shoes and all, because you cannot fight anything in pajamas and bare feet. I brushed my teeth and combed my hair, thinking now I would confront the beast. I looked out the window where I had first seen him. Nothing, I tried the kitchen window. Nothing again. In fact, I noticed that now I heard no howling at all. I ran from window to window, opening each shade with trepidation, but finding no dog on the other side. The beast that kept us awake all night was gone. Where did he go? Did he move on to the next house, just over a mile away, or did he run off into the vineyards to rest and then return tonight?
I didn’t know. Now I feel as if last night was just a bad dream and the dog never existed.
