The Dog

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When I was around 13, we had a huge German shepherd who was 7 at the time. This dog was a beast.

He wasn’t afraid of anything. Ever. Constantly following me to school and waiting for me to come home at the foot of our driveway. All around a great great dog.

Again, let me re-emphasize: this dog wasn’t afraid of anything.

Anyway, we bought this house we were living in at the time for super cheap because the previous owner had hung himself in the downstairs coat closet and it wasn’t selling fast enough.

One day, I walk down the stairs to see my dog staring at the closet. Just staring. He was standing up, tail between his legs, not moving an inch, just staring at it.

The door was open, which was weird, because people in my house are usually good about closing things up. I go over to Rodney (my dog) and try and see if there is something in the closet from where he is looking.

Can’t see anything, but the closet is super dark. I try and snap Rodney out of it, but he won’t budge. He just keeps staring and staring. I had never seen my dog like this.

The most horrifying part: Rodney’s head is moving slightly from left to right, like he is following the movement of something hanging in the closet.

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