Call Animal Control

Of course. Of course, it had to decide to stop at my door at one in the morning. 

And of course it had to rip at the wood with those hideous front claws. 

I stumbled to the front door in my underwear, rubbing my eyes and trying to focus...until I heard the growling. That’s about when the fear kicked in, the adrenaline rush following in its footsteps. I crept over to the light switch on the balls of my feet, placing a hand over the panel in the dark. My fingers fumbled around for a few seconds before I finally found the correct plastic nub. I leaned over to look outside the window, trying to get a good look at the dog; I was able to only make out the outline of a shape black as pitch. When I flicked the switch, the lightbulb above my porch sputtered a few times before finally setting on. I...this is going to sound really stupid, but I swear that the damn thing’s eyes were glowing. 

As soon as I turned the light on, the dog turned its’ head. It looked at me. I yanked the blinds down, practically sprinting back to my bedroom. I leaned on the door for a while, trying to breath as quietly as I possibly could. I heard more scratching and shuffling and growling, until finally the thing plodded off. 

Now there are claw marks on my door. The entire porch has this foul, stinging smell about it. And I don’t know how it accomplished this, but the dog also knocked over the mail box, apparently for very un-canine reasons since the mail itself was left unmolested. 

I asked my neighbor if he’d encountered anything similar, showing him the marks on my door. I don’t know what war the man living next to me fought in, but it must’ve been bloody, because he was decidedly unimpressed. He just shrugged, said he hadn’t seen anything.

Now I’ve got to put in more hours at the office to pay for repairs, which means more quality time with my psychotic boss. I’ve got to be careful, he’s been eyeing my laptop. I wouldn’t be terribly surprised if he demanded it sometime soon.