The Dog House

The dog across the street leapt and caught the frisbee in his mouth, then he dropped it.

“Really John, you need to throw it straight.”

“I was trying to pull a fast one.”

They looked at the house on the other side of the road and shuddered.

“Well we have to go get it,” said John.

Maggie and John looked both ways before running quickly across the street onto Mrs. Anderson’s property. The dog ran quickly behind the house when Maggie bent down to pick up the frisbee before screaming. 

“Maggie, what’s wrong?”

They stood above the frisbee, looking down at the teeth marks, and the blood. 

They moved into the house the week before. Maggie only eight, John turning ten. They drove from a city in Mississippi to the northern Californian suburbs. A thirty hour drive of the two of them staring at nothing but trees and then desert. Their parents tried to make them excited, telling them that it was a beautiful house and that they will be surrounded by kids.

When they arrived at their new house, Maggie and John realized that their parents were right: the house was beautiful and surrounded by other kids outside, none of which seemed interested in the new family. While the parents began to unpack the UHaul, Maggie and John slumped onto the couch, knowing if they tried to help they would only make something worse.

After an hour, their mom got fed up with the kids’ moaning and groaning, complaining of being bored.

“Why don’t you guys go and try to make friends instead of staying in the house all day.”

“They don’t want to play with us mom,” stated John.

“You don’t know if you don’t try,” called back the mother, turning off the t.v.. “Go.”

They didn’t know where to go, and so Maggie led them down the street, to the house two down from theirs where she saw children outside on their drive in. 

“Hi. My name is Maggie and this is my older brother John,” she stared at the other children, who looked to be young teenagers. 

“You guys look like children,” the other boy yelled at them. 

“Hey. My brother is turning ten years old!” 

John cowered in the back, unsure of what to do as his sister took control. 

“Aw, boo hoo, ten years old. Maybe you’ll find someone your age at that house over there,” the boy pointed to the dark gray house located across from their own. It was a bit run down, and they had a german shepherd that traveled in and out of the house, staring at anything in its path.

“Come on Maggie, let’s get out of here,” John grabs his sister by the hand and pulls her away from the house, back to their own. 

“Where are we going John, he told us to go across the street. Not back home. We need to find new friends.”

“That house has nobody our age in it Maggie, I can tell. Just look at it.” 

Maggie turned and looked, “Looks fine to me!”

“Let’s go inside.”

A few days later, Maggie and John were back to sitting on the couch, unsure of what to do, John throwing a ball in the air and Maggie clicking through the channels, trying to find something to catch her interest. Their mother sat at the table trying to sort out the financials with their new house, getting more and more stressed out hearing the constant catching of the ball and clicking of the remote.

Click.

Click.

Click.

“Okay. Get out of the house. Now.” Their mother came rushing in, taking the ball out of John’s hands and the remote out of Maggie’s. She put them both down on the table, went to the door, and picked up a bright yellow frisbee that was laid on the bench.

“Go outside and play frisbee, please.”

John snatched it out of her hands and growled, “Yeah. Okay.” 

They slouched down the steps and spread out in the front yard. John wound up his arm, and let the frisbee loose. They both watched as the frisbee flew overhead, into the yard across the street, and right into the mouth of the large dog, who then dropped it onto the grass. 

The frisbee was covered in blood surrounding the teeth marks of where the dog bit it. When the dog came back around the corner they could see the blood dripping from either side of its mouth, onto it’s red matted fur. John grabbed Maggie by the hand and dragged her back across the street, Maggie grasping the frisbee tightly in her other hand. Maggie stood, pale as a ghost as John ran inside to bring their mother out.

“It’s covered in blood Mom, look.” 

They stared down at the frisbee, the mom’s eyebrows wrinkling.

“He probably bit down too hard and it caused his mouth to bleed, come on, it’s time for bed. Let’s get you two washed up.” Their mom rushed them inside, hurriedly putting them in the bath and to bed. 

John couldn’t sleep that night. He kept tossing and turning, wondering why they had yet to see Mrs. Anderson, but saw her dog walking around with blood hanging out of his mouth. He turned toward the clock, 11:00p.m..

“Maggie, are you awake?” She turned toward him, groggily.

“Yeah, I can’t sleep.”

“That dog had blood in it’s mouth before it caught the frisbee, didn’t it?”

“I think so,” she paused. “John I’m scared.”

“I think we should go make sure she’s okay.”

Maggie grabbed her blanket, and put on her slippers, following behind her confident brother. They tip-toed down the stairs, and quietly opened the door. As they ran across the street, the street light casting a dim shadow behind them, they knocked quietly on the door of Mrs. Anderson’s house.

The door creaked open with just one knock, and the room was dark. 

“Hello? Is anybody home?” John stepped one foot into the house, the smell musty. “Take my hand Maggie.”

Maggie reached in front to hold the hand of her older brother. They stood in the living room, the air cold as it circled around them, Maggie grasped her blanket tighter in her other hand. 

“John we should leave.”

“We need to make sure she’s okay. Mrs. Anderson? Are you here?”

“John I don’t think she’s here. We should go back to bed.”

John pulled his sister further into the house, they stepped around the corner into the kitchen when the foul smell reached their noses. Maggie began to pull on John’s sleeve, “Please John, can we go.” 

“Maggie, it’s okay.”

They entered the kitchen and John’s face turned white as a ghost. Maggie’s blanket slowly dropped from her hands onto the white of the floor.

Mrs. Anderson’s blood, spilling from the sides of her neck where her dog was feasting, stained the white floor below them. The two kids remained staring as the blood inched closer and closer to their feet.