When I was little I was terrified of the monster under my bed. Not that unusual, right? Except that that fear followed me all the way through adolescence and into adulthood.
Eventually I got a dog, Benji, and had him guard me while I slept. He was a big dog, a German Shepherd with powerful jaws and a growl that rolled up from deep in his throat like thunder. Finally I was able to sleep for more than a few snatched, fearful moments at a time.
But recently Benji has started acting strangely. He cocks his head and whines at things that I can't see, and he's stopped sleeping on my feet and moved to the floor - he's even moved all his toys down there beside the bed.
It's almost 2am now, and I'm lying here alone, having given up trying to coax him back up with me. My eyes flutter heavily and I yawn. Maybe I'll take him to the vets tomorrow, just to make sure there's nothing wrong.
I'm half asleep when something warm and wet drips onto my face. I feel a hot breath on my cheek and open my eyes to meet Benji's dark brown ones. 'Whaya doin, boy?' I mumble sleepily. He growls and every hair on my body stands on end. Then, from under my bed, I hear it: an excited rasp, barely even a whisper. 'Good boy!'
