Nothing there

After a peaceful night, I woke up to sunlight coming through my window. I grabbed my favorite coffee mug, poured some fresh dark roast, and sat outside to watch the birds in the trees.

There’s something about early mornings outside, relaxing and watching nature wake up, that always felt therapeutic to me. Usually, I’d read something inspiring or a good crime novel, but today I couldn’t focus on anything except what I saw in the corner of my yard. I tried to stay calm. Fear can make people act impulsively and do things they regret. I remembered reading that somewhere, so I did my best not to let anything or anyone set me off. It worked.

I finished my now-cold coffee, stood up, picked up my phone, and turned on the camera. I zoomed in on the spot in the yard, trying to determine if what I was seeing was real or just in my imagination.

My backyard is open, with just a few shrubs along the neighbor’s fence. It stretches back to a greenbelt where wildlife sometimes comes by and people go for walks.

​

An iron fence separates my yard from the greenbelt and woods behind my house. It’s tall enough to keep people out, but small animals can slip through the bars. What I was looking at didn’t seem like an animal. I couldn’t tell what it was from where I stood, so I had to walk over and see what was there.

Since my coffee mug wasn’t much of a weapon, I set it on the table. I didn’t expect to fight a bear or anything, but it made me feel better. Without thinking much about it, I grabbed the leaf rake. Before you judge, my only other option was the chair I’d been sitting on.

With the leaf rake in my hand, I walked toward the corner of my yard to investigate. The trees there are old and, after recent storms, their broken branches hung low, blocking my view. As I approached, I tightened my grip on the rake. Although I wasn’t scared, I realized I couldn’t easily describe what I was seeing, and my mind raced with possible explanations.

I tried to think logically. If it was dead, it couldn’t hurt me, so why was my heart pounding? If it were alive, it would have run away by now. I didn’t know why I was reacting like this, but with each step, the tension grew.

After a few more steps, I stopped and stared at what looked like the mangled, dried-up, bug-covered body of a dog. So, it was an animal after all.

I quickly looked it over and realized it had been lying there for a few days, maybe even a week.

​

I didn’t have a dog. My neighbor didn’t have a dog. How did the dog get in? Whose dog was it, and why didn’t I see it yesterday or the morning before? Was I that engrossed in my book that I didn’t notice? The book was very engaging, I admit. I had a hard time putting it down, and I even took a day off from work to stay home and read. I wanted to finish it so bad, I lied to my manager and said I wasn't feeling well. Was it possible that I just didn’t look in that direction? Am I being punished for lying, or am I even feeling well right now? Thoughts were exploding in my overcaffeinated brain.

Nah. It didn’t make any sense. I was getting frustrated because I couldn't find an answer.

​

I went back to the house and changed into my favorite heather-gray long-sleeve shirt, black jogging pants, and gym shoes, tying my hair in a bun. The whole time, I tried to figure out how the dog got in, how and why it died, and whose dog it was.

I realized I was talking out loud and paused to check if anyone could hear. I looked around the room, the kitchen, and finally went to the bathroom for my medication. I opened the bottle, shook a couple of pills into my hand, poured a glass of tap water, and took them, hoping they would ease the pounding headache.

​

I dropped onto my sofa with my phone in hand and started dialing. My head was throbbing.

The first two calls to my neighbors didn’t help. They were just as surprised as I was. Now what? Should I call animal control? What would they do? Should I dig a hole and bury it? I really didn’t want to do that, especially in my yard.

I called my old friend Lisa and shared my story with her as I prepared and drank a fresh glass of orange juice.

It only took a few minutes for her to calm me down, and she suggested I go back and check the dog for a collar. Maybe there was an address or phone number on the tag. That sounded like a good idea, so I agreed to do it after we hung up.

She encouraged me to go check while we were still on the phone, so she could keep me company, and I probably should have listened, but I didn’t. Instead, I tried to remember what I saw when I poked the thing with my leaf rake.

I closed my eyes and there it was. Now I could feel the moment I turned the bulky body. I didn’t see a collar or harness, but could I trust myself to recollect everything? The headache was not going away.

I remember feeling weak in my stomach, quickly turning around and running home.

Now, I had no plans on going there again.

“No identifiers of any sort on the dog,” I said to her.

We ended our conversation after exchanging plans to get together for dinner soon.

In the bathroom, I searched for something to ease my headache, confusion, anxiety, and panic. I needed to find help removing the dog from my yard.

Back in the kitchen, I fixed myself a piece of toast with honey and warmed up some more coffee.

I picked up my prescription bottle off the floor. It must have fallen earlier, and I didn’t notice.

I popped the cap off and glanced at the label. Asenapine. No more refills.

​

I don’t know how long I slept in my chair, but as soon as I opened my eyes, I jumped up in a panic. I’m late for work! What time is it? What day is it? I felt like I’d lost a few days and frantically searched for my phone. There were several notifications—eleven missed calls, lots of texts, and emails. It was 3 pm. I felt my face flush. How could I let this happen again?

The phone rang and I answered. It was Sarah from the office.

“I called your house. I called your work. I called your cell phone several times. Are you okay?” she sounded genuinely concerned.

“I’m awake and talking to you. I guess I’m okay,” I answered slowly. My headache was still there, and I kept thinking about the decomposing dog, the swarm of flies, and the awful smell.

​

“Open your door. I’m in front,” Sarah said, and at the same time, my doorbell rang.

Just as I turned the lock, the door swung open, Sarah walked in, and hugged me.

​

“Dear Lord. Glad to see you’re alright. You gave me such a scare,” she said. “Oh, and remember, you have your therapy appointment at 5 today. Just a reminder so you don’t miss it again. You did say you needed your prescription filled, right?”

​

Sarah was not just a good friend and co-worker, but my personal assistant. A walking, talking calendar of appointments and events with a frequent reminder. We met at one of our group meetings and shared the same therapist for a while until she was better and left the treatment, while I continued with hopes of getting better, but I wasn’t getting there.

​“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Sarah was genuinely curious.

“Let me show you,” I replied. I grabbed her arm, led her onto the patio, and pointed to the corner of the yard where the trees were, directing her attention by extending my arm. “See?”

​

“What are you showing me? A broken tree branch? Do you want me to call a landscaper or someone?” She was eager and quick to assist.

I knew she would. That’s just how Sarah is.

“Don’t you see it? I pointed by extending my arm.

“The dog. The dead dog,” I frantically mumbled.

“And I don’t know whose dog it is, or how it got there. See it?” I really tried to sound as composed as I could, but words were spewing out of my mouth, and I am pretty sure I sounded just as crazy as they labeled me.

Sarah turned towards me, grabbed me by the shoulders, and shook me. “Stop! Please, stop.”​

She seemed a little angry now. I stood there as puzzled as I was shocked.

“Do you remember when we attended those meetings together, and despite your admission that you were all better, you hid your visions from the doctor?” Sarah kept going. “You needed to stay in the program longer, but you were so stubborn...” she kept on rambling, but I had to cut her off.

“Let’s not bring out the past, Sarah’ I snapped, but she kept getting louder and angrier now.

“There is absolutely nothing there. No dog. No dead body of a dog, and only a broken branch.” Sarah’s anger diminished as quickly as it appeared, but she seemed annoyed as she sputtered and started walking towards what I was afraid to approach.

I gasped when she reached the corner of the lot and moved the fallen tree branch to the side to clear the path. I already imagined something jumping out of the shrubs and chasing her, but nothing happened. She turned on her heel and walked back to me while wiping her hands on the pockets of her faded jeans.

“See? Nothing is there, Laura,” she said sharply, walked past me toward the exit, and shut the doors behind her.

Time was moving fast. By the time I gathered myself together, it was already 4:30 PM, and since I didn’t go to work, at least I had to get out and make it to my appointment.

I changed clothes, fixed my hair, and glanced in the mirror. I didn’t like what I saw—tired, puffy eyes, no makeup, and a pale face staring back at me. I quickly turned away, grabbed my coat, put the almost empty pill bottle in my purse, and left without looking toward the patio door where my nightmare lived.