The Haunting of Paxwood House

24: About That Black Dog

Tuesday, 21 May 2019, Night
Paxwood, Whatcom County, Washington, USA
Eyewitness: Kerry

"I think that dog is following us."

Char and I were meandering around the main paved loop trail in one of Paxwood's many neighborhood parks, a perfect place for a picnic. She had a literal picnic basket. I just had a plastic grocery bag with some snacks, sodas, and a blanket. Early in our friendship, I hadn't yet learned that her mother was a caterer who had these kinds of things on hand.

We'd been talking about the town's ghost stories on and off for days, but that Saturday's picnic plan was searching for fairy circles. Flowers, mushrooms, and ferns could all form natural fairy circles, or we could make an intentional one with pebbles. Paxwood only had a few fairy stories compared to the plentiful ghost stories, but there were enough to spark my curiosity.

I looked over my shoulder and I saw the dog that Char was talking about, about thirty feet back.

"Probably smells the food," I reasoned.

"What should we do?"

"Ignore it," I said, turning away from it. "Or, if you want to make friends, we could feed it?"

"Let's just ignore it."

A couple of days later, walking home from middle school together, we saw the dog again. This time, it was padding along between unfenced yards, three or four houses behind us.

"Could it be the same dog?" Char wondered.

"It's like a shadow, following us," I said. "Let's ask Old Man Morgan."

"Old Man Morgan?"

"He's on the way to my home, and he knows all the folklore and the ghost stories and the urban legends of Paxwood. If he's sitting out on his porch or his garage is open, we can talk to him."

Compare Old Man Morgan to his nephew Adrien Morgan, and it was night and day. Now, years later, knowing magic is real, I recognized how Old Man Morgan had been arming me with knowledge from the first time I ran into him to the day he died. Back then, as a middle schooler, I took him as a town oddity or... a grandfather, but not my personal grandfather.

Old Man Morgan's garage door was open, and he was sitting on a lawn chair in his driveway with his long-furred gray tabby cat stalking around him on a long tether—another of those details that made him an oddity. There weren't too many people who walked their indoor cats. Usually, they either let their cats roam free through a cat door, or they kept them locked up inside their whole lives. Inside the garage, an eclectic collection of tools and trinkets filled shelves and mounted cabinets.

Char and I sat down on the long bench opposite his lawn chair, and after I introduced Char, I asked my question.

"What does it mean if there's a black dog following you?"

"You never ask me anything easy," Old Man Morgan said, smiling. "Now, many people take the black dog to be a death omen or a sign of danger. Death omens take many forms in many cultures. If you have ravens or crows following you, or you hear an owl hooting at night, or a black cat crosses your path, these may be taken as signs that you or someone you care about is near death."

I shivered. "So, if we're seeing a black dog following us, then one of us might die?"

"That's only one dire perspective," Old Man Morgan said, shaking his head. "There are some black dogs in folklore that act as guardians or guides. Stories of a black dog leading a lost traveler through a forest, for example. And, whether it's an omen, a warning, or a guide, it's a reminder to take precautions and keep the ones you love close to you, not a reason to be afraid. Can't control the future, but we can control our present. Now, where did you see this black dog roaming around? If it's a stray, I'll find it a home."