Here is one of the stories from "Our Canine Companions: Featuring Whiskers."

 

  Karen Parker was drifting off to sleep when the noise awakened her.  She sat up.  Her every nerve was taut as she strained to listen.  A few moments passed and she heard no new sounds.  Probably the icemaker, she decided.  It could be noisy, especially when

the house was quiet. She glanced at the alarm clock; it was past midnight.  Now that she was wide awake, she might as well go downstairs to double-check the doors and windows. 

      Jeff, who was frequently out of town on business trips, had insisted on high security locks on all the windows and entrance doors.  Karen, however, admitted to being a trifle lax in locking up.  She felt much safer out here in this sparsely populated suburban area, even though the house had no near neighbors, than she had in the crime-ridden neighborhood from which they had moved only months ago.

     She moved cautiously through the house, checking each door and window.  Everything was secure.

She went back upstairs and climbed into bed, but an uneasy feeling still lingered.  Her thoughts drifted to Bandit.  If she had her beloved dog by her side, she would never feel lonely or insecure when Jeff was away.

     She fondly remembered the day she brought Bandit home, a solid white ball of fur, except for the black mask-like marking around his eyes.

While still a puppy, he had suffered a throat infection.  The infection had left him with a permanent and peculiar hoarse bark.  The bark was so unusual that she'd made a recording of it on a cassette.  She was now burning all her old music cassettes to CDs, but hadn't gotten around to the Bandit tape yet.

     While treating Bandit's infection, the veterinarian told her that he had discovered a heart defect.  That ailment ultimately claimed him at age seven.  He'd been gone for six months now, and she was still grieving for him.  As much as she missed having a watchdog and companion, she had decided against getting another, at least until she was over her grief. 

     Another noise.  Maybe she was hearing things because she was all wound up.  All in her imagination.  She wasn't used to feeling like this; she didn't consider herself the faint-hearted type.  But she did find herself regretting that she and Jeff had decided to postpone having a security system installed until they paid up a few more bills.

     So here she was, she thought, alone without a watchdog or a security system.  Her feelings of security were fading.  Fearless Karen suddenly felt naked and exposed.

 

     She heard it again.  A loud thump, as if someone was kicking at the door.  This definitely was not her imagination.  It seemed to be coming from the front of the house.  If an intruder was trying to break in, he wouldn't find it easy getting through the thick, hardwood door and the deadbolt lock.

She eased to the bedroom window, a point from which the front steps were visible.  The entry light was on, as community watch newsletters were always reminding people to do.  The man was brazen, standing in the light and showing his face.  He was not even bothering to wear a mask.  He looked up and she hopped back.  It was unlikely that he had seen her in the darkened room.

     She picked up the phone to dial 911.  No dial tone.  Her body went cold.  He must have cut the phone line.  She thought of the cell phone.  Oh no.  She'd left it in her car.

     Hadn't she seen something in the news recently, about the police looking for an escaped convict?  But more likely, the man on her doorstep was a junkie looking for drug money, a problem all too common in her old neighborhood.

    She glanced at her alarm clock and waited a good five minutes before pulling back the curtain and peering out the window again.  The man was nowhere in sight.  After waiting another five minutes, she guessed that he had given up.  He had probably gone looking for an easier house to break into.

     But to be on the safe side, she decided to go get her cell phone from the car and call the sheriff.  She fished the car keys from her handbag and was halfway down the stairs when she heard another loud thump.  She couldn't tell where it was coming from.  What if he was in the carport, trying to break in the kitchen door?  She hurried back up the stairs.

     She tried to think of a way to scare him off.  Some of the usual ruses came to mind.  She could try to bluff him by saying that she had a gun.  Or she could pretend that she was calling the dog.  Then an idea came to her.  The tape of Bandit's barking might scare him off.

     The tape recorder was in the bedroom closet, and the tape of Bandit's barking was in the drawer of the nightstand, together with some of her old music tapes.  She turned on the light, got the recorder from the closet, and began searching for the Bandit tape.

    Suddenly she heard the sound of shattering glass.  So much for all those security locks. 

Frantically, she picked through the jumble of music tapes and finally found the tape of Bandit's barking.  She jammed the tape into the recorder and pressed PLAY.  Nothing happened.  Of all times for the thing to break down.  She regretted not yet burning the tape to CD.

But it occurred to her that it had been a bad idea anyway.  For if she had a dog, wouldn't it have started barking when the intruder first showed up?

 

     She heard footsteps on the floor below.  He was in the house.  She rushed to the bedroom door and locked it, then put her ear to the door.  She could hear the shuffle of his footsteps below.  Her heart was thumping as she heard his footsteps on the stairs.  He was on his way up.

    She ran into the bathroom and pressed the knob lock.  She heard a loud crack as the intruder kicked in the bedroom door.  She had a fleeting thought, wondering why  they didn't install deadbolts on  bedroom doors.

The closet door creaked, and she held her breath.  The bathroom doorknob rattled, and he spoke, almost in a whisper, "Gotcha, Baby, like a cat got a mouse.  You're mine now."

     It was true.  She was trapped; the bathroom had no windows. 

"I have a cell phone, and I've called the police," she said.  "They're on the way."

"You're lyin' to me, sweetie.  I purposely made noise and then hid in a safe place to see if the cops would show up.  When they didn't, I knew you didn't have a cell phone.  It's just you and me, babe."

    The junkie wouldn't be bluffed, but maybe she could reason with him.  "I don't know who you are.  I haven't seen you, and I can't identify you.  Please take what you want and go."

     "You're lyin' to me again, sweetie.  I think you saw my face.  I saw the curtains move in your window when I looked up."

"Just take what you want and go, I swear I won't report it."

     He grunted.  "Your valuables ain't all I want, Babe.  But I'll look around to see what you got.  Maybe you got a little jewelry or cash I can use.  When I'm finished lookin' around, we'll have a little fun, so don't go away."  He chuckled.

     She heard his footsteps descending the stairs.  She immediately switched on the bathroom light and started looking around for something to defend herself.  The creep would not be content with stealing her valuables; he obviously intended to assault her. 

     She saw nothing but the usual items: medicine, cleaners, and toiletries.  There was nothing she could use as a weapon.  Escape was her only hope.  She could leave the bathroom while he was poking around downstairs, but then what?  If she jumped from the bedroom window, she would risk breaking a leg, or worse. As she was trying to decide if it was worth the risk, she heard him coming back up the stairs.

     He reentered the bedroom, and moments later she could hear him rummaging through the drawers.  "Hey, baby, I found your undies."  He whistled, long and low.  "Hey, I like these.  Sex-eee."

     He turned the knob and laughed.  She looked down to see that he had slipped her red silk panties under the door!

"I want you to put these on for me, sweetie.  I can't wait to see you in these.  You gonna look real sexy for me."

 She was not going to let this lowlife intimidate her.  She was angry.  "Get out!  Get out of my house, you creep!"

"You don't wanna make me mad, Sweetie, cause you gonna wear 'em for me one way or the other.  Take a good look at the floor."

 She held back a gasp at the sight of the gleaming blade of a switchblade knife shoved under the door.  He held it there for an instant and then drew it back.

    "You gonna wear them panties while I have my fun or I'm gonna make you wish you had Then you know what I'm gonna do?"  He made smacking sounds with his lips.  "I'm gonna make like Dracula and drink your blood."

     This was no junkie she was dealing with--this was a real sicko.  Horrified, she retreated back toward the tub, and as she did her hand brushed against a plastic bottle.  It fell to the floor.  The smell of pine cleaner filled her nostrils.  She recalled a warning on the bottle to keep the cleaner away from the eyes.  Maybe she could throw the liquid in his face and blind him.

    She picked up the bottle.  Oh no...almost empty.

"What you doin' in there?  You don't want to upset me when..."  There was a rustle of movement.  "Hey, what's that on the nightstand, a recorder?  You been tapin' our little conversation on this old recorder?  Well, let's hear what you recorded so far." He snickered. 

She could hear buttons on the recorder clicking, and within seconds she heard the distinctive bark of Bandit, followed by the intruder's shrill yelp, "What the...?"

      There was a thud, as if he had fallen down, followed by a scuffling sound.  She heard him cursing as he ran down the stairs.  Seconds later, the house was quiet.

Karen was perplexed.  What on earth had happened?  Prior to playing the tape, he had been cool and casual, even arrogant.  He had been enjoying himself, taking sadistic pleasure in her terrifying predicament.  Why had he suddenly become agitated?  Surely, he realized that the barking was coming from the tape; after all, he was the one who turned on the recorder.

Maybe he was just trying to trick her into leaving the bathroom.  But that made no sense.  He could kick in the door as easily as he'd kicked in the bedroom door.

     Or maybe he had an extreme phobia of dogs--she'd once had a friend who was deathly afraid of them.  Maybe that phobia, added to his twisted mind, had sent him over the edge after hearing the tape.

She waited for what seemed like an eternity before leaving the bathroom.  As she stepped out, it dawned on her that the intruder might be playing a cat-and-mouse game with her.  A sadistic sicko would be the type to get his kicks from such a game.  He may have been faking the whole thing, and even now he might be hiding in the closet.

     She ran back into the bathroom and locked the door, waiting, listening for any sound that might betray his presence.  The minutes ticked by, and she realized that she was no safer here than anywhere else in the house.  If he burst through the bathroom door, she would have no chance for escape.

 

     Once more, she eased out of the bathroom.  She crept down the stairs, through the hallway, and into the darkness of the kitchen.  She opened the knife drawer.  She reached in, and her fingers found a carving knife.  As she withdrew it, she was startled by a loud noise behind her.

     She dropped the knife.  Her heart beating wildly, she spun around.  This time, it was the icemaker.  Breathing a sigh of relief, she retrieved the knife.

     Holding the carving knife at the ready, she cautiously opened the kitchen door and stepped down into the carport.  She missed a step and stumbled and fell, turning her ankle.  She hobbled to the car, opened the door and hurriedly slid into the driver's seat.

As she slammed the door and locked it, she was instantly filled with dread.  When she got in, the car door had been unlocked--she had left it unlocked again!

     She sat there terrified, frozen with fear.  If the intruder were playing a cat-and-mouse game, this would be a perfect setup for him.  He would simply hide in the back seat, guessing that she would come to the car to make a run for it.  She glanced in the rear-view mirror, the prickles rising on the nape of her neck as she waited for the feel of the sharp blade on her throat.

     She slowly turned around.  Her heart leaped to her throat at the sight of a large form lying on the back seat.  She tore her nail grabbing the door handle, and then nearly collapsed with relief when she realized that the large form was actually a bundle of old clothes that she was planning to drop off at a charity collection point.

     Clutching the cell phone, she dialed 911.

*****

     "We caught your intruder, Mrs. Parker," said Corporal Parilli.  "As a matter of fact, he flagged us down when we were approaching your house.  Said he wanted protection from a dog.  He claimed it kept attacking him and wouldn't leave him alone.  But there were no bite marks on him, and there were no dogs in sight.  The guy sounds like he ain't playing with a full deck."

     "A dog was chasing him?" asked Karen.

     "That's what he claimed.  Anyway, your intruder is the escapee we've been looking for.  He was doing time for rape and murder."

Karen was almost speechless.  "My God.  Then he was the escapee in the news?  If...if he hadn't stopped to play the tape..."

Corporal Parilli looked puzzled.  "Tape?"

     Karen explained to the deputy about Bandit, about taping his bark, and about the intruder playing the tape.  He made notes as she talked.

After she was finished, he pocketed the notebook.  "I just want to get one thing straight, Mrs. Parker." he said.  "You say that your dog was white with a black mask-like marking around the eyes?"

Now it was Karen's turn to be puzzled.  "Yes, that's right.  Is that important?"

     "Not really.  Just a funny coincidence, that's all.  It matches the description the intruder gave of the attacking dog."

Parilli advised her that because of the broken window, he would have a deputy checking on the house frequently until morning.

After the deputies left, Karen went upstairs.  She was  still edgy from her ordeal.   It was 2:00 AM now, and no way would she get any sleep for the rest of the night.  She made a mental note to call the security alarm people first thing tomorrow.  She would also ask Aunt Cathy to stay with her until Jeff came back.  

     She eyed the old tape recorder on the nightstand.  Her ruse to play Bandit's tape had worked, she thought, but in a very unexpected way.  What the deputies told her jibed with her conclusion that the intruder had a severe phobia of dogs.  There had been no bite marks, and no trace of a dog, yet the intruder had been fearful enough to surrender to the deputies.  The barking had been enough to trigger his phobia and send the unstable man fleeing from an imaginary dog.

     That had been a stroke of good luck for her, but she couldn't get over the eerie coincidence of the similarity between Bandit and the intruder's description of the imaginary dog.

     She extracted the tape from the recorder and returned it to the nightstand drawer.  But as she started to put the tape recorder away, she gasped.  The power cord was hanging loose.  In her haste, she had forgotten to plug it in.

     But that couldn't be, for hadn't she heard Bandit's barking with her own ears?  Or perhaps her mind had been playing tricks.

Karen Parker spoke softly to the empty room.  "Bandit, was it really you?"  For a brief moment she shivered and goose bumps formed on her skin, for she could have sworn that she felt the nudging of a cold nose and then a warm, moist tongue caressing her hand.  And then an unbidden thought--in the form of a suggestion--came to her mind.

     ""Yes, Bandit," she whispered,  "I will...I'll get another dog."

The End

Intruder is one of four stories in "Our Canine Companions: Featuring Whiskers," which is available in paperback or ebook at  Riverok Books.

Also available at Amazon   Of the other three stories, one of them, "Whiskers," is a full length Novella.  There are also true accounts of dog heroism and fascinating facts about dogs.  If you're a dog lover, this is a great read.

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