Gather round my friends. There’s a Halloween feel in the air today. So join me as we take a candlelight stroll down memory lane to a story I first shared in 2019. This tale, inspired by true events, is a homage to Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart” (1843), and continues to haunt me to this day!
True! Nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? Listen, and observe how calmly I can tell you the whole story, of how my tail betrayed me.
It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Although I admit Asa’s squeaky toy had never wronged me, I felt it was my duty to relieve the family of its presence. Perhaps it was his cold plastic eyes that stared at me with an unfeeling, relentless gaze that made me do it? No! It was his squeak that taunted me endlessly to the point of even haunting my dreams. The squeak drove me to act.
Now this is the point, you fancy me mad. But a Golden Retriever is never mad, nor does one act on impulse. I carefully conceived my plan of how to rid my home from this squeaky intruder. As darkness fell, gently, oh so gently, so as not to awake the suspicions of Asa, I quietly carried the offensive toy upstairs. Up the stairs we crept to the guest room, a quiet sanctuary where I could carry out my brilliant plan without detection. Would a mad dog be so cunning?
Presently I heard a slight squeak. I knew that sound well. It was the squeak of mortal terror. I resolved now was the time to act! I pounced upon my fuzzy foe ripping it to shreds! At length it ceased squeaking. The dog toy was dead.
If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the toy. The evening waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the toy. I removed his fuzzy arms and legs and floppy ears, and painstakingly picked every ounce of fluff from inside his now silent shell. I then took up the pieces and distributed them around the room. No one could identify that fiendish toy now!
That’s when I heard Mom’s footsteps on the stairs followed by her calling for me. I went to greet her with a light heart. “What have you been up to?” she asked. I smiled, for what had I to fear? There was no evidence of my crime. It could be weeks before she enters the guest room. I followed Mom to all my usual haunts in the upper chambers of our home. I bade her to search, and search well. My Mom was at first satisfied. My manner had convinced her that I was singularly at ease. She even paused to pet me, while I sat cheerily in the hall.
But, ere long, I felt myself getting restless and wished her gone. At length, Mom peered into the guest room. There I sat in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, of my well concealed deed hidden in the shadows. However, I fancied I could faintly hear the squeaking of Asa’s recently departed toy. How could that be? Yet the squeaking increased, and what could I do? It was a low, piercing, squeaking sound echoing in my ears. Yet Mom heard it not. I began to nervously wag my tail.
Why would Mom not be gone? I paced the hallway floor to and fro with heavy strides. This excited the observations of Mom. My tail wagged more thumping against the walls to deaden the sound, but the squeaking noise steadily increased in my head. It grew louder, Louder, LOUDER! Was it possible Mom did not hear it? Oh no! She heard! She suspected! Mom knew! But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear that hypocritical squeaking no longer! I felt that I must bark! Now again! Bark! Bark! BARK!
That’s when I threw myself on the remains Asa’s squeaky toy, just as Mom turned on the light, revealing my ghoulish deed.
