Creative writing submissions from the Rest Less community: Submit your entry here.

Yesterday, since I had an early appointment, I went for a walk with the sausages. While perhaps a little boring, that’s good for them because they are still quite responsive to traffic and people coming towards or behind them. I am aware that the more they do it, the better off they will be, as long as they feel safe and protected, so I continue to reassure them. As much as I hate it from a pain perspective, I also recognize that it’s good for me too, so we all benefit from it.

We were all quite relaxed and I was joking with them when I noticed a man coming towards us, although there was nothing extraordinary about him. As he approached, he smiled and greeted me with a cheerful good morning and then stopped.

Willow immediately started barking (which wasn’t unusual), but this was compounded by behavior that was remarkably unusual for her too. She literally retreated, making herself as small as possible behind my legs. Her tail was right between her legs, fur raised and she was looking at him, barking aggressively. This is something he never does, being a shy but very friendly little dog.

At the same time, Bear, totally relaxed and always friendly these days, began to growl gutturally, baring his teeth, moving backwards as well, so that he was between me, Willow, and this man. I was genuinely shocked and my first thought was: What do they know about this person that I don’t know?

The man stopped, also reacting to their behavior and taking a step back, saying, “Oh, I just wanted to say hello, I love dachshunds!”

I smiled weakly and said apologetically, “Sorry, they’re rescues!” before speeding past him, with Willow leading the way, eager to run. Interestingly, Bear, in addition to moving forward with us, kept growling and kept stopping and looking back behind us to see where this man had gone. The man continued walking, but both dogs were obviously anxious and their behavior was so out of character that it was clear something was wrong.

Many years ago, with my first Dachshund, Henry, I moved into a cooperative apartment on the first floor of a small apartment building. The housing association had recently taken over the flats and, although pets had previously been banned, the new management were keen to give it a go. Being the first pet on the block, both Henry and I were interviewed. We were lucky that Henry was the perfect candidate. Quiet, very friendly, obedient and, frankly, the easiest dog in the world who, long before it was considered normal, came to work with me every day, which means he had his references.

I taught at a middle school and had asked for unpaid leave when Henry needed surgery to remove his dew claws. The boss, reluctant to lose me, asked me if he was the kind of dog who could come in with me. I laughed as he absolutely was. If asked to stay in his bed, he wouldn’t budge for love or money (or biscuits), and was the calmest, kindest, friendliest dog in the entire world.

We agreed that Henry would come to work with me and one of the parents lent me a stroller to transport him back and forth, so that he didn’t need to walk.

Once the stitches were removed I left it at home as usual. At about 7:45 in the morning, the principal popped his head out of my classroom door with, “Henry, look what I have for you!” When I explained to him that he was at home, having had his stitches removed on Friday, the principal said, almost offended: “I don’t care, go get him right away, he’s part of our family now and we need him here!”

That was the start of a three year contract where Henry came to school with me every day, never on a lead and was a vital part of helping the children in our care, and it was during this time that I moved home. The principal had written him a reference and they were very impressed with him, so the interview went well, we moved.

We had been living there for about three months when one morning, during the break, the doorbell rang. Henry always gave two deep barks, came to the door with me, queue going 19 a dozen but silent. I locked it in the living room and went to open the front door.

There was a man, probably in his forties, dressed casually but elegantly. As he spoke, Henry uncharacteristically began barking from behind the door. The man showed me his housing association card and told me they were replacing some windows in the ground floor apartments. He said he wanted to check the windows of all the apartments, so that any necessary repairs could be carried out at the same time.

After inviting him in, I opened the living room door, saying, “Don’t worry about the dog, he’s friendly…” as Henry lunged at him, growling and barking. I was deeply shocked because the man was clearly scared and backed away. Even though I shouted “No!”, Henry continued to move forward, avoiding my attempt to grab his collar as this man backed down the hallway, with Henry hanging on to his pant leg, growling and shaking him. I stood horrified, apologizing profusely as the man frantically ran away, saying, “I’ll come back another time when you get that dog under control!”

I couldn’t believe it and I felt terrible, while I was protesting with a now calm dachshund who was just looking at me, wagging his tail! Concerned about the housing association’s new ‘pet’ policy, I phoned their office to apologize again and try to arrange an appointment to ensure his usual exemplary behaviour. The housing officer listened to me and then asked me many questions, concluding with: “Is that man still there?”

I said I thought he was, since he had gone upstairs. He told me to close my front door and wait in my apartment, saying someone was coming, before abruptly hanging up on me. Totally confused, within a few minutes, I heard sirens and three police cars (those were those days) screeched up. From my window, I saw officers running into the building. A few seconds later, my doorbell rang. Concerned about recent behavior, I locked Henry in the bathroom (even though he was his usual “wacky” self) and opened the door for the police.

Long story short, the man who knocked on my door was a scammer who, having entered several apartments in the area posing as a real estate agent, had robbed them, intimidated them and then sexually assaulted the residents, often elderly ones. All the victims were women and a series of attacks had recently occurred.

As it turns out, the real estate officer I’d spoken to just the day before had contacted the police about four women on another block, all victims of an attack. Still on site, the police managed to capture this wanted man in the apartment of one of my elderly neighbors upstairs.

Henry, always the friendliest of dogs, knew this man was a threat and he knew what I didn’t know when I let that man into my house. He was rewarded with a box of Bonio biscuits by the police officer who took my statement, and the housing association gave him a certificate of bravery and a box of dog biscuits, labeling him a ‘hero’. I have never been more proud.

Since that first incident, I have learned to always trust my dog’s instincts and have had three truly remarkable incidents with different dogs where I categorically know that my dogs have protected me from evil and dangerous humans. They have that sixth sense that we don’t have and they will protect us, putting themselves at risk.

I always tell people, “Learn to read the dog!” It will always be useful to you, for a variety of reasons, and this is one of them.

Of course, I’m sorry if this man was harmless yesterday, but Willow and Bear clearly didn’t think he was and, at the risk of overreacting, I’m listening to them!

Feeling creative? We’re proud to have a very talented community on Rest Less, which is why we’re so excited to open a section of the site dedicated to showcasing the beautiful, diverse writing of our members. If you have a piece of creative writing you’d like to share with the Rest Less community, you can do so here.