(C)1991 John Tynes
[This was a real landmark, in retrospect. Below you’ll find the infamous story of the decapitated dog, which led to the even more infamous story of the severed dog’s head (covered in TUO4). No, the decapitated dog and the severed dog’s head were not from the same dog. Don’t ask questions, just read!]
Have you ever gone box hunting? You know, checking all the liquor stores and dumpsters in your neighborhood (assuming that there are liquor stores and dumpsters in your neighborhood) for empty cardboard boxes? It’s one of those rituals that accompany moving from one place to another. Somehow, you’ve got to compress all the detrius of your life into a U-Haul trailer and move. First, you have to pack.
Blair Reynolds, whose artwork graces this issue’s cover as well as the inside, moved to Fairbanks, Alaska late last fall. So, he performed the ritual of getting up at dawn for a couple mornings and beating the garbagemen to the dumpsters around campus. There aren’t a lot of people out at that time, with the exception of a few zombified joggers, so running into someone else is a little unexpected.
Blair was walking towards a dumpster next to the Biology building when a white truck pulled up ahead. A man climbed out and went around to the back, then leaned in. When he stepped back, he was holding a large, heavy bundle wrapped in plastic garbage bags. The object was about four to five feet long and from the way the man held it, was very heavy. He stumbled over to the dumpster and dropped it in, making a loud crash as whatever it was landed on the trash inside.
By this time, Blair was almost at the dumpster. The man gave him a funny look, so Blair kept on walking. He saw the guy enter the building nearby. After a minute or so Blair came back to the dumpster, watching the building as he did. He saw a light go on in one room.
Looking into the dumpster, Blair could see the wrapped bundle, partially sunk into the trash. He looked up at the building again, then shrugged his shoulders and began to lift one end of the thing up, propping it against the wall of the dumpster. Once this was done, he began to peel back some of the plastic wrapping.
At this point, Blair says he thought it might be some sort of art object that the guy’s wife was making him throw out. But as he got a little of the bag away, he found something else. Cold fur.
Glancing at the building again, Blair pulled away more of the bags until two paws were exposed. He realized that the object was a large dog, probably a German shepherd. It was quite dead. It was also frozen solid.
Really puzzled now, Blair pulled away more of the wrapping. Something wasn’t right about the shape of the dog in the bags. Finally, he saw what it was.
The dog had no head.
Blair says that it had been neatly and cleanly sawn off, obviously after the dog had been frozen. He took an involuntary step backwards; the severed stump of a dog’s neck isn’t something you see everyday. He then spent a few moments digging through the trash around the dog, trying to find the head. He was sure that the man had only had the one bundle, but he wanted to be certain.
The search turned up nothing; the man had thrown away a frozen headless dog.
Blair took another glance at the building and then hurried back to his apartment. There he called the police, telling them what had happened and that he really didn’t know if he should be calling them, but…
The whole time, Blair’s paranoia was kicking in. He says he started mumbling to himself about Cthulhu cultists using dog’s heads in rituals. A couple of minutes after he called the police, the phone rang. He answered it, and the caller hung up.
That was all the proof Blair needed. Nearly convinced that at any moment a raving lunatic with a pranga was going to come in, he locked the door and loaded a clip into his AR-15 (a semi-automatic rifle). He says that his cats kept giving him funny looks, but he wasn’t about to admit the surrealness of his actions.
Finally, the phone rang again. This time it was the police. They had checked out the dog and talked to the guy in the building. Apparently, the man was a faculty member, and the dog was left over from some project. The police suggested that a public dumpster might not be the best place to dispose of lab animals, but didn’t ask why he was doing so shortly after dawn. They were satisfied. Blair unloaded the rifle and calmed down – although “Blair” and “calm” are considered by many to be mutually exclusive terms.
Needless to say, the headless dog is still a source of speculation around here. What kind of experiment needs a dog’s head but not the body? I’ve read that a patent has been granted for a process by which a head may be kept alive after decapitation (though “alive” may not be the best term). I have this image in my mind now, of the large sleek head of a German shepherd in a vat of fluid, hooked up to wires and apparatus. In my mind, the eyes stare out, then blink. The mouth opens slightly and then closes again, since barking is no longer an option.
One of the modern ailments often reported to trendy suburban therapists these days is a feeling of disconnection from society. Caught up in work and success and achieving, people say they feel cut off from what matters most.
In my mind, the eyes of the dog catch those of the viewer and regard them sadly.
Disconnected? Indeed.
Jon Cooke, publisher of the Lovecraft Centennial Conference Guidebook mentioned here last issue, has been busy again. The result is Tekeli-li! Journal of Terror, a great little magazine that Jon’s Montilla Publications has just begun. The first issue features writer Les Daniels, with a profile and several articles as well as an excerpt from his new novel. There’s quite a bit more as well: fiction, reviews, movie news, and articles on a variety of subjects relating to the field of terror. Tekeli-li! is well written, well edited, well produced and – well, enjoyable! It’s available for $5.50 postpaid by mail from Jon B. Cooke; 106 Hanover Avenue; Pawtucket, R.I. 02861.
Subscriptions to The Unspeakable Oath are now available. $16 will get you four issues shipped to your door by first class mail; overseas subscriptions are $24 via air mail. Check or money order in U.S. funds only, please, payable to Pagan Publishing – see the address on the inside back cover. I’m sorry, Peter, we still don’t do Visa! But maybe someday…
[A word from the present day: As of 2011 those subscription rates are very much out of date; but we do take Visa. –Shane Ivey, editor]
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