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New house, new dog, but what evils could lurk inside of both?!
My Dog, Doug by David O\'Hanlon
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Transcript:
\\u201cDaddy, I want this puppy,\\u201d Abby\\u2019s tiny voice replayed in Barry\\u2019s head as he wiped the dog shit off of his barefoot. Lindsey found the Armant on Craigslist. Normally, they were extremely hard to find outside of their native Egypt, not to mention expensive. Smart, protective, and loyal\\u2014they were the perfect breed for just about any family. He wasn\\u2019t a very large dog, less than two feet at his scraggly shoulders, nor did he look like he ate a lot. Plus he was free, which sealed the deal.\\xa0
The lady had told them that Doug needed more attention than she could provide, which wouldn\\u2019t be an issue with Abby. Why anyone would name a dog Doug, however, was beyond Barry\\u2019s understanding. Still, Abby and Lindsey thought it was adorable. So, Doug the Dog joined the family with an excited wag of his curly tail and a more excited screech from Abby.

The Warner\\u2019s had just bought a new home. It was much larger than they needed, but the location was isolated and it had been priced to sell. That was always a plus for the frugal Barry Warner. The fourth bedroom was an extra, so Barry had made it into a playroom for his daughter\\u2014who promptly rechristened it the set of the Abby and Doug Tea Time Review.\\xa0
Every afternoon, they sat at the pretty, pink picnic table in front of a live studio audience of stuffed animals while Abby talked about the cartoons that her and Doug had been watching. Doug\\u2019s role consisted of sitting on the bench and fighting the urge to lick his own ass. Barry credited the dog for being such a good sport. Every once in a while, the dog would even offer a yip of agreement to Abby\\u2019s seven-year-old opinions on the geopolitical climate of Oz and other fantasy worlds.
They had been in the house a week when the noises started\\u2014scratching in the walls that immediately sent Barry\\u2019s horror writer brain into action. You can\\u2019t write scary stories without believing, on some base level, that it could actually happen. Barry was a practical man, so he immediately got out his EVP recorder and began to scan the house. Obviously, there was something strange going on. He didn\\u2019t pick up anything out of the ordinary, though.\\xa0
Lindsey told him it was probably nothing. By the second week, they began to find things out of place or just missing altogether. Still, Lindsey insisted that they were simply being forgetful or Abby was moving them in an attempt to be funny. Who wouldn\\u2019t find disappearing house keys humorous, after all? And the attic door opening on its own? Well that was just a real gasser. Lindsey swore it was a breeze blowing in from some bad seal or something, but Barry had written this novel twice and knew the skeptic was always wrong.
The strangeness continued over the next three weeks and Barry was thoroughly convinced that there was a ghost in their new home. It seemed Doug thought so, as well. Barry had been woken up at three one morning by a low, long, growl emanating from the playroom. Barry crept down the hall armed with a less-than-intimidating participation trophy from a Halloween writing contest. He found Doug standing on the picnic table, ears pricked up, and teeth bared. He was staring at the ceiling growling continuously.\\xa0
\\u201cDoug,\\u201d Barry whispered.\\xa0
The dog didn\\u2019t respond. More growling at the ceiling, but nothing else.\\xa0
Barry stepped further into the room and said the dog\\u2019s name again. He noticed the time on the Disney clock.\\xa0
It\\u2019s just a coincidence, he tried to convince himself. It\\u2019s definitely not a demon.
Still, he cocked back the little trophy unsure if he would be better striking with the faux-marble base or the bedazzled jack-o-lantern topper.
Barry reached for a play broom propped up on the Little Tykes kitchen and bumped the spot on the ceiling Doug appeared to be staring at. Barry jumped as things in the ceiling ran in different directions to get away from his thumping. In the dead of night, the tiny claws scratching the crawlspace echoed around him. Barry patted the dog with a sweaty palm and went back to bed, but not to sleep. That would take a while.\\xa0
It\\u2019s definitely not a demon, Barry. He reassured himself. Shit. Please don\\u2019t be a demon.
Once the sun came up and some Lucky Charms went down, he was ready to do some investigating.\\xa0
\\u201cDoug, find the rats.\\u201d He pointed at the ceiling with a thumb.\\xa0
Doug, climbed into the chair next to him and waited for his cereal. Barry looked down at his bowl, spooned out the last couple of marshmallows and slid the soggy leftovers to the dog.\\xa0
\\u201cDon\\u2019t get used to it. I\\u2019m only doing it because you\\u2019re my canary today.\\u201d
Once Doug was done eating, Barry grabbed a box of Milk Bones and headed for the basement door. Doug whimpered and looked towards the ceiling. He ran upstairs and Barry followed after him.\\xa0
Maybe the rats are isolated upstairs. Or maybe the ghosts live in the basement. He wasn\\u2019t sure which idea he would prefer.\\xa0
The spry young dog made it up the stairs long before he did and he watched as Doug ran over to Abby in the playroom and gave her sloppy kisses. Abby gave him a hug and told him she loved him, after which the dog trotted back to the door, looked up at Barry, and gave a sharp bark before embarking back down the stairs.\\xa0
He wanted to kiss his human goodbye before we face certain death. Barry wiped a manly tear from his cheek.
The basement stairs creaked as Doug and Barry inched down them. The dog was alert, Barry was spooked. His bladder quivered with each groaning step. The basement was well lit and spacious, the exact opposite of what every horror movie, ever, had prepared him for.\\xa0
He waved his EVP recorder around the room. Nothing. Doug stopped suddenly and began sniffing the air. He cocked his head sideways and then walked cautiously to the old work bench on the far side of the basement. Barry watched as Doug worked his head underneath the bench and came back over.
Doug dropped the dead rat at Barry\\u2019s feet. Its head and one of its legs were missing, but it was most definitely a rat.\\xa0
\\u201cDamn it, Doug.\\u201d Barry kicked the rat. \\u201cLindsey was right. I\\u2019ll never hear the end of this. We better find the rest of them.\\u201d\\xa0
He was sure there had to be more of them after the noise they made the night before. He inspected the baseboards for any holes they could be using to get around. It occurred to him, that he didn\\u2019t actually know what a rat\\u2019s hole looked like. He doubted that it would be the neat little archway of the cartoons. He heard the scratching again. An unseen rat ran overhead. Then another. Then a small group.
A frantic burst of barking sent him into the air and knocked ten years off of his life. Doug was going ballistic. The Armant snapped at the air, snarling and barking, as he bounced around. The scratching in the ceiling grew louder and spread across a wider area than before. There were a lot of rats up there and they were all moving at once\\u2014moving towards him.\\xa0
The antique, asbestos ceiling tiles broke under their weight and dozens of rats poured from the ceiling. They swarmed around Barry\\u2019s ankles and crawled across his feet. He went Michael Flatley on their asses and started stomping out a jig in an attempt to kill the vermin before they could escape. He slipped on one\\u2019s rupturing carcass and almost fell into the sea of rodents.
Doug ran the direction the rats had come from, hitting the wall full force. The rodents scurried away from Barry in too many directions for him to keep track of, but the dog was focused solely on the wall. Barry screamed shrilly and slapped the beasts away as he struggled upright. He shook and checked to make sure none were clinging to him before joining Doug by the wall. He beat his fist against it to see if there were any more rats hiding. But there was no scratching or fleeing this time. No, there were no sounds of frightened rats. This time, something knocked back. Barry and Doug exchanged concerned glances and then both ran for the stairs.

Barry went to the basement later in the day to clean up his kills before they started stinking. He rushed to dispose of them before Lindsey got home from work\\u2014partially to spare her from the gruesome bag of squished rats, but mostly to avoid admitting he was wrong. Unfortunately, she pulled in right as he dumped them in the big green can.
Apparently, ghosts weren\\u2019t as scary as rats. As soon as Barry recounted the day\\u2019s adventure, she ran to their room and packed a suitcase for her and Abby. Barry and Doug would be left to handle the raging rodent problem. He tried to tell her about the strange knocking and how he thought that was a sure sign of a ghost.\\xa0
\\u201cIt\\u2019s a sure sign of a big damn rat, Barry!\\u201d She shoved the clothes into the bag haphazardly. \\xa0
And that was the end of the discussion. If your wife says the house isn\\u2019t haunted, then the damn house isn\\u2019t haunted. That\\u2019s the way it works. Barry sighed in defeat and helped her pack. They left that night to stay with family in Rogers, away from rabies-infected vermin. Barry sat on the couch and opened a can of Arkansas Red. He turned on the EVP recorder just to be sure as he opened his laptop.\\xa0
\\u201cTomorrow we have to find an exterminator, Doug. Tonight though, tonight we are kings!\\u201d The 69 Eyes began playing through the laptop speakers while Barry ordered a pizza. \\u201cWould you like breadsticks or cheesy bread?\\u201d\\xa0
Doug cocked his head and groaned. \\u201cRight, stupid question.\\u201d
Six stick'