My aunt’s dog

I never dreamed of ever living at my aunt’s house; this is especially because I have visited beforehand. Her house is rather well-kempt altogether, yet I didn’t feel safe there. Visiting over the years, I knew it was not my aunt’s fault or any of the family members that would come over there. No, looking back, It was both her dog and horse that made me feel uneasy. The dog’s name was Baby, a medium-sized, slender mutt with a large appetite. The horse, on the other hand, was named Darren, a large horse who also ate as Baby had. It wasn’t just because they were animals; I, for one, knew I loved animals of every sort. I pondered over why for over an eternity but being here now reminded me well.

I arrived here somewhere around my birthday, carrying loads of boxes and bags. The first day felt like I was carrying the world on my back, and uncertainty itself was high. Weeks had passed and I grew very fond of my aunt. It was but a few months later that we received a dog whose owner was murdered. The previous owner’s sister is the one that ended up bringing the mutt here. She seemed normal at first, but I found her staring discomforting. I would never give her table scraps, but she came to me all the time. In the middle of the night sometimes, she would sleep outside my door with her short, bristled coat against it. She always made me feel like something was wrong, but there was no danger I could find. Whatever the case, I tried to leave my door open for her, but she refused to come in. The few times I did get her to be in here at all, she would quickly want to head back out.

Darren was alike but different when it came to the strange occurrences around me. Instead of being too close, he’d often run off as he suddenly was scared by something similar to how he acts if he accidentally gets sprayed with the water hose. To say the least, it was always in the opposite direction of where I stood.

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