One night on our small farm, I was awoken by our dog barking loudly. I got up to investigate and stopped by my son’s bedroom to check on him. He wasn’t in his bed…
“Jason!” I whispered loudly, “where are you?”
“Under here daddy,” my son replied, as he came out from where he had been hiding under his bed. “Was it just you?” He asked.
“Was it just me where?” I asked.
“Walking outside my window.”
A chill crept over me as I lied and said “Yes,” to keep him from getting scared. “But why don’t you come and sleep with mommy and daddy tonight anyway,” as I picked him up out of bed and carried him in to our room.
I laid wide awake in bed the rest of the night, baseball bat beside me at the ready, while my wife and son slept peacefully. The barking stopped soon after.
I got up at sunrise to go and check around outside, and was incredibly afraid by what I discovered. Our family dog was lying dead with its throat cut open and there were signs of attempted entry through the back window with scratch marks. Also, out towards the back of the property there had been a small grave dug under a large tree, but that was confusing, as the dog hadn’t been buried in it.
I got rid of the dog’s body myself and had to lie to my family that he must have ‘ran away chasing the cat he was barking at.’ It was the best I could come up with. When I asked my son what he had seen ‘me’ doing in the middle of the night, he simply replied with “The farm work.”
“Why do you think I was doing farm work son?”
“Well, why else would you have been carrying that large cane knife and shovel dad?” My heart sunk in my chest, but he wasn’t finished yet, “And why did you only call my name out the second time you came to look in my room…?” As I realized, the grave hadn’t been for the dog.