Full Body Chills - The Hound

Episode Date: October 26, 2019

This is the story of how my obsession with getting a dog, became my undoing.The Houndby: Minnie Schedeen & Ashley FlowersYou can read the original story at FullBodyChillsPodcast.comThis episode is brought to you by Simplisafe, to learn more check out simplisafe.com/fbc Looking for more chills? Follow Full Body Chills on Instagram @fullbodychillspod. Full Body Chills is an audiochuck production. Instagram: @audiochuckTwitter: @audiochuckFacebook: /audiochuckllcTikTok: @audiochuck

Hi listeners, this is Ashley Flowers and I want to tell you a story. A story about how my obsession with getting a dog throughout my entire life. The idea of owning a dog consumed my every waking thought when I was little, which was probably exacerbated by the fact that both of my parents were allergic, which meant that until I moved out of their house, I was stuck with a goldfish named Goldie until he died when I was 10. Because of that, I grew up fantasizing about the day when I could finally march right into a pet shop or shelter or wherever and pick out the one I wanted. When I was older and my friends wanted to go to the mall to shop for clothes, I would

wander over to the pet store and spend hours just watching their little furry faces from behind the glass, hoping that one day one of them would be mine. Because I had unlimited time growing up to think about this very subject, I spent many years ruminating on the exact breed that I would take home with me one day and whether it would be a large dog or a small dog short hair long hair boxer bulldog dashet hound Doberman finally I settled on the Italian Greyhound very exotic I know but I loved how long and lean and graceful their bodies were. They also looked like a weird alien animal from some other planet, which for some reason made me want one even more.

By the time I realized they were my dream dog, I had turned my obsession into something more than I could even put into words, and I began to channel my emotions through painting and art as a way to express myself. I would often go back to the pet store almost every weekend to just stare at the puppies. I was in there so much that the boy who worked behind the counter knew me, and as soon as I would come in, if it wasn't too busy, he'd pull out one of the greyhound puppies for me to play with in the little meet-and-greet room. I think he thought maybe the puppies were just some kind of like front, and I was really coming in to see him because eventually he asked me out and seemed totally mortified when I turned him down.

But I really was there just for the dogs. I was obsessed. When I graduated high school and moved across the country to attend college for art, I foolishly thought I could bring a dog back to my dorm room. But of course, pets weren't allowed, just like candles or hot pots, I also found out. So I spent another four years on top of the first 18 of my life, hoping so desperately that I could have a dog. Then when I finally graduated college, I moved back to my hometown with a couple of roommates

that put their foot down about having a pet in the house. So I couldn't argue with them. They're on the lease too. But one day in October, my three roommates were all at their respective day jobs across the city. We're a house like full of artists, but we had to make a living somehow, which meant most of us either were waiters at restaurants or worked as baristas at coffee shops. So on this day, it was my day off and I'd spent the morning painting in our collective like studio area in the attic before breaking for lunch. I made myself a bagel and cream cheese sandwich, washing it down with a carton of milk, when I hear the doorbell ring.

And this is weird. Normally, delivery men just left packages at our doorstep, and most of us were too poor to order anything anyways. So I go to answer the door, but when I did, no one was there. I was about to head back inside when I hear this whimpering to my left. So slowly, I follow the sound until I find an animal clearly injured and in pain laying in our alleyway behind the house. Instantly, my body filled with joy when I realized it was a dog. And I didn't know whose it was or where it had come from, but I knew somehow that the universe had sent it to me to heal it. And as I got closer, I realized it's not just any dog. It was the dog an Italian greyhound the very dog that I'd always wanted to own I could barely believe my luck so I scooped up this dog in my arms like cradling it against my body and

surprisingly it didn't argue or fight with me instead it almost seemed to collapse into my body as soon as I scooped it up. I could tell the dog was badly hurt and it looked like one of its legs were severely broken. My heart just broke for this poor thing. I noticed the dog's collar and checked for the name of an owner, but it just had one word, Goldie. The same name as my goldfish. Can you believe it? And this seems like a strange coincidence. And for a second, I almost wondered if someone was playing a cruel trick on me. But then my thoughts were distracted by something else.

As I turned the corner to head to my house, I spotted a strange dark figure heading toward me down the street. I didn't know why, but I felt like this person was coming for Goldie. I wondered briefly if this was the same person who hurt the dog in the first place and was coming to finish what they started. I shuffled inside before the figure could reach the house, maneuvering my hand to the

doorknob while still cradling the frightened dog in my arms. Finally, I managed inside, shutting the door with my foot, hoping I wasn't seen by whoever that person was. I placed Goldie on the floor gingerly, then quickly double-locked the door. But when I moved to peer out the window to see if they were still there, the figure was gone. For a second, I almost thought I imagined it completely. The dog made a howl behind me, and instantly everything else disappeared from my brain. My natural pet owner instincts, having been kept dormant my entire life, suddenly kicked in. I ran to the kitchen to fill up a bowl with water and placed it in front of the poor little thing.

At this point, I could tell that Goldie was a girl and my heart burst. I had always wanted a girl. But how was I going to tell my roommates? They had been firm and were explicit that none of us were allowed to bring pets into the house. We'd even voted on it three to one. One night when I tried to bring home a stray cat that I found in the dumpster behind my work, they threw it out into the street, even as I was crying and begging to keep it. Now, I mean, in retrospect, I had behaved a little crazily. I mean, I'll admit it, the cat was clearly like flea bitten and mangy, and it could have brought any number of diseases into the house with it. But what can I say? I love animals. This time, though, I needed to figure out a plan before everyone got home. So I gathered Goldie in

my arms again, promising I was going to take care of her, and I quickly ascended the steps to the attic. I planned on making a little home for her up there until I could figure out exactly what to do and how I would tell my roommates. As soon as Goldie was settled amongst my paints, I dashed around the house stockpiling supplies. Extra blankets and pillows were easy, but my offerings for food were next to none. I was in the middle of trying to decide if she would prefer a can of baked beans or a leftover bowl of rice when the doorbell rang. I felt a tingle sensation run up and down my spine. Again, we don't get packages and we definitely don't get visitors in the middle of the day.

Two times in one day was basically unheard of, which is why I exercised a certain amount of caution rather than immediately opening the door. Instead, I crept around to the living room where I had a slim view of the porch. I peeked through the window and sure enough, there was the same dark figure on my front step. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me, and the only sound I could make was just this tiny gasp for air. The figure was a man with long hair and an even longer dark trench coat. I had no doubt in my mind now that this was the man who hurt Goldie. He rang the doorbell again, impatiently,

but I knew immediately that I wasn't going to open the door. A few seconds went by, and then he pounds on the door with his fist. And for a second, I'm worried that he intends to break down the door, but then he just stops. He pauses for a moment, and then turns and stalks off the property without another word i finally was able to breathe a sigh of relief hoping that this was the last time i would ever see him i quietly lift myself off the couch away from my vantage point at the window back in the kitchen i decide i can't feed goldie any of the stuff that I have.

That means I only have one option. There's a corner store just down the street from my house. If I can make it there without running into that dark figure, I can get Goldie the proper dog food that she deserves. So I gather my hair into a bun, and I decide to throw on a bunch of trench coats over my body. If this man in the trench coat wanted to look scary, so was I. I take a deep breath and I head out the front door. And listen, I shouldn't have been scared. It's like brightly lit outside. I see no one and I make it to the corner store with no problem.

I pay for a couple of cans of dog food, but that's when I see it. The flyer. It says, missing dog answers to Goldie. And then there's a photo of Goldie. My Goldie. A few years younger, but healthy and beautiful. There was a number at the bottom of the flyer. In that moment, I was just wracked with indecision. I don't know what to do. I mean, part of me still thinks that man is terrifying and he probably was the one that hurt the dog. But also, what if that mysterious man didn't have anything to do with Goldie and I was robbing some poor family of their beloved pet? The guilt was just too much for me. So I take out my cell phone and begin to dial, deciding that if someone answered, I'd just like make something up to test who they were,

why they were putting up the flyers. And I wouldn't let them know that I had Goldie until I knew that I was going to return her. The phone rings and rings, and I'm just about to hang up when a small voice answers. And it sounds like a little boy, maybe like eight or nine years old. And I tell him like, hi, I'm calling about the missing dog. And the voice on the other end of the phone starts to weep, which makes my heart start to break. And I think back on all those times when I was younger and all I wanted was a dog, even though I never had one. And I couldn't imagine being a little kid and finally having the pet of your dreams only for it to run away and disappear.

Like, who was I to rob this boy of his childhood? The boy puts me on the phone with his father, and the father sounds pleasant enough, and I find it hard to believe that he was the man who followed me before. I tell him that I have Goldie in my car, and I can bring her wherever he wants. The man gives me his address, and I make my way back to the house. When I arrive back at my house, I ascend the steps to the attic slowly, knowing that these were my last moments with Goldie. And I try not to cry or act emotional. I mean, I know I haven't known her that long and dogs can sense those types of things. I wanted Goldie to be happy even if she couldn't be happy with me. When I finally reached the landing to the attic, I am close to tears,

but I keep it together. Goldie's sleeping peacefully on her little bed that I made for her and all I can think is that she'll never sleep on that bed again. An hour later, I'm sitting in front of the house that corresponds to the address I was given. It's a pleasant enough street, actually fairly close to my childhood home, and I wonder if I might know the family that lives behind the house that I was about to enter. But I rack my brain and I just can't place it. I tell Goldie that I'll never forget her. And then I gather her back into my arms for the final time and walk to ring the doorbell.

As soon as the door opens, I'm greeted by a tall, clean-shaven man wearing a simple pair of blue jeans. He's younger than I expected. I guess because his son sounded like eight or nine, I expected him to be in his thirties. But he looked younger, like almost my age. And he looks familiar, but no one that I can place. Again, this house is kind of in my old neighborhood, so maybe he's someone that I would have seen around. He greets me with normal pleasantries and ushers me inside.

Once in the living room, I set Goldie down on the ground, but for some reason she yelps out loud and then runs into the next room. I ask the man where his son is, because I wanted to see the look on the little boy's face when he sees Goldie into the next room. I asked the man where his son is because I wanted to see the look on the little boy's face when he sees Goldie for the first time, but the man tells me that he left to visit a friend's house. And all at once, like, I feel disappointed and then regretful that I even came at all. Like, should I have just kept Goldie for myself? This little boy didn't deserve her if he wasn't even going to bother to wait around for her in the first place. Maybe the boy was careless.

Maybe Goldie wanted to escape from this house, and that's why she was on the street in the first place. I'm interrupted in the middle of my thoughts when the man asks if I want to see Goldie's puppies. And my stomach drops to the bottom of my feet. If I couldn't have Goldie, her offspring was the next best thing. Maybe I could actually have my dream dog after all. I nod my head vigorously and he smiles. Something about his smile is so familiar. But I was over trying to place him at this point. All I could think of was my future greyhound puppy waiting for me somewhere in this house. The man gestures for me to follow him and I do. The house isn't that big and we go down a

small hallway towards a door on the right all the way at the end. As I walk past the two open doorways in the hallway, I glance into each of them, one on my left and one on my right. I was looking for Goldie. I wanted to catch one more glimpse of her. He opens the last door and gestures down. Ladies first. There's this stairway that leads into the basement, and as my foot hits the first step, what I saw in those rooms finally registers. One bedroom, one bath. There was no room for a kid, and the bathroom sink had been covered in long hair, just like the man who'd followed Goldie. Before I can do anything, the man shoves me down the stairs. I'm so disoriented by the time that I hit the floor, I can't even tell which direction the staircase is in. I'm just surrounded by inky blackness, but I try to pull myself up onto my feet. Before I can even open my mouth to cry out for help,

his arms are around me and his hand is covering my mouth. I struggle with him but he's stronger than me and he's quick. Before I know it, my wrists and ankles are bound with zip ties, duct tape covers my mouth and he's thrown me back on the ground. I hear his footsteps go quickly back up the stairs and the door slams behind him. I didn't know what to do. I can't believe I was so stupid. I cannot believe I got myself into this situation.

I can't see anything. I can't hear anything. I lay like that for hours until a light appears above the stairs and the man is standing at the landing. It's just his shadow until he throws on the light switch and the burst of light is a violent assault on my eyes which had just gotten used to the darkness of the basement. I slowly open my eyes back up to look at him and suddenly I see it. I don't know how I didn't see it before. He was the boy that worked at the pet shop,

a grown man now. I gasp, but it's just a muffled noise from behind the duct tape. And he sees the recognition, senses my fear, and he just nods. He starts to move slowly down the steps, each creaky step drawing closer to where I still lay on the floor. In that moment, that final step that he took onto the cement next to where I lay, I instantly knew I'd never leave this basement because I know how he feels.

For as long as I've wanted a dog, he's been wanting me. This episode was written by Mini Shadeen and me. The series was produced by myself and David Flowers, and our theme came from Justin Daniel. If you'd like to read the full story, you can go to our website, fullbodychillspodcast.com, and be sure to come back Monday. We'll have a new story for you that will give you full

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