The Wolf Within

By Janet Baldey

Teresa stood staring out of the kitchen window at the dog.  It lay on the grass, its nose resting on its paws as the death throes of the setting sun flooded the lawn with crimson and set fire to its fur. 

‘If only’, unbidden, the bitter thought flashed into her mind.  Immediately, she felt guilty.  It was wrong to be jealous of an innocent animal. But Teresa couldn’t rid herself of the idea that the dog was anything but innocent. She could have sworn there were times when she’d caught it regarding her with a calculating expression. On those occasions, the look in its soft brown eyes was quite different from when it gazed at her husband.  

She jumped, startled by the brassy ring of the doorbell. She shot a glance at the clock; Charlie must have forgotten his keys again.

`       As she walked down the hallway she could hear the clicking of the dog’s claws as it skidded along the parquet flooring.  As usual, it beat her to the door, skilfully insinuating its body in front of her just before it opened.  Its tail waving like a flag, it reared and rested its paws on Charlie’s chest, almost knocking him over.   A grin smeared itself over his face.

‘That’s my girl’,

Gently replacing the dog’s front legs on the floor, Charlie bent to its level and ruffled its ears.

‘That’s a lovely welcome, Have you missed me?’

He rose and aimed a kiss somewhere in the direction of Teresa’s cheek.

‘Hi love. What are we eating tonight?’

The muscles of her face tightened.  He thinks more of that dog than he does of me, she thought.  As the dog trotted off behind its master, it shot her a sly glance.

         All through supper, it sat by Charlie’s chair ogling him with chocolate brown devotion.  At last, Charlie put down his fork, rose and pushed back his chair.   Looking down, he uttered the magic word.

         ‘Walkies.’

         Teresa watched them as they walked down the path and out onto the lane, the dog circling its tail and weaving figures of eight around Charlie’s legs. She bit her lip.   Not once, ever since they’d been married two years ago, had Charlie ever suggested that she should join them on their evening walks. Just as he never suggested that she sit next to him on the sofa as they watched TV.  That place was reserved for the dog.   Charlie would sit gawking at the screen, one arm thrown over the animal, his fingers thrust deep into its fur, while the dog lay inert, a look of glazed ecstasy in its half-open eyes.

That night, Teresa awoke from out the fog of an uneasy dream and lay, its shreds disintegrating around her.  Behind the sound of Charlie’s regular breathing, she could hear the creak of the garden gate keeping time with the wail of the wind.  She realised that was what had woken her. Charlie must have forgotten to close it and now she’d get no sleep. With an irritated sigh, she dragged her body from underneath the duvet.   As she padded round the end of the bed towards the door, she had a vague sense that something was wrong but her mind felt muzzy and she couldn’t think properly. Then, it came to her.  She always slept nearest the door, so why was she walking around the bed from the other side. That was where the dog slept.

‘It’s a wonder I didn’t step on the damned thing,’ she thought.

 

A sudden noise shocked her into stillness.   She craned forward and listened.   There was the whisper of voices and the sound of stealthy movements.  A frozen hand gripped her bowels and squeezed.  There were strangers in the house.  Instinctively, she dropped onto all fours.  She tried to cry out but her throat seemed clogged.  Desperately, she tried to clear it.  

‘Go away’.  The words came out as a rasping growl.

She crouched, her body hugging the carpet.  Then, she heard the slam of a car’s door and the voices receded.  With a feeling of relief so complete she almost swooned, she realised the sounds had been coming from the house adjacent.

She took a deep breath and tried to get up but her limbs seemed anchored to the floor. Looking down, at first she was merely surprised to notice that her arms were covered in long, red hair.  Then, horror followed surprise as she realised it wasn’t just her arms, her whole body was covered with a glossy, chestnut pelt.  A rolling wave of panic washed over her

‘Help me’ she cried. It came out as a low whine.

 Her head felt heavy as she swung it towards the bed. She blinked, her feeling of disorientation deepening.  There were two figures lying there, cuddled intimately together. Despite her plight, she realised that she and Charlie had not slept like that for a long time.

‘But, it’s mine’ she thought helplessly. ‘That’s my body in the bed’.

The smaller figure’s eyes snapped open and Teresa knew the full meaning of terror for the first time. The eyes, staring triumphantly at her, were brown. Hers were blue.

‘No’ she screamed.  It came out as a howl.

‘Shaddup girl,’ Charlie said, and turned over in bed.

 

All night, Teresa tried to tell Charlie something was wrong but her words came out as yips and yelps and in the end he got annoyed and dragged her out of the room by the scruff of her neck.

‘If you can’t behave yourself, you must sleep in your basket.’  He closed the door in her face.

The next week was a nightmare.  Charlie wouldn’t listen to her and not being able to face the endless bowls of Chappie, Teresa grew weak and emaciated.  Her fur started falling out.  She couldn’t sleep and had no energy. She simply lay in her basket as hope faded from her life.

In spite of her misery, she couldn’t help noticing what was going on. One of the  first things the dog,  - or ‘Terri’ as Charlie now called her - had done, was to throw out all Teresa’s clothes.  She bought a completely new wardrobe, miniskirts mostly and tops with plunging necklines. Teresa had to admit she looked well in them. They showed off her curves and long, slim legs. It had to be admitted, her figure was better than Teresa’s, obviously due to all the long walks she had been taken on. Charlie was now walking around with a foolish little smile playing around his mouth and he no longer stayed up late watching television.

Then, one day she heard something that made her prick up her ears.

‘There’s something wrong with that dog.’ Terri said.  Charlie looked worried; he came over and started stroking her.   Teresa desperately wanted to tell him something was very wrong but she knew she’d only start whining again, so she didn’t make a sound. She simply gazed at him imploringly,willing him to notice the change of eye colour, but Charlie had never been the observant sort.

‘It doesn’t look happy does it?’  Her rival said.

Teresa felt her lip begin to curl and Charlie got up so quickly he almost fell.

‘We’ll wait and see how she goes.’  He said.

A few days later, just before Charlie got home, Terri poured pools of water all over the kitchen floor. Puzzled, Teresa peered at her from over the top of her basket.

As soon as Charlie was inside the front door, she heard Terri talking to him in the hall and a terrible realisation dawned.

The kitchen door opened and Terri gestured dramatically.  

‘Look’ she said. ‘It’s pee’d all over the floor. I think the poor thing’s senile.   It is quite old, isn’t it?’

Charlie looked miserable and Terri slipped an arm around his waist and pressed her body against his. 

‘I know…’ she muttered huskily. ‘You’ve had it a long time but don’t worry, I’ll do what’s necessary and it won’t suffer.’  She offered up her face for a kiss.   ‘Now, shall we just pop upstairs for a shower?’  She raised herself on tiptoe and licked his ear with her long, red tongue.

The next day Teresa was awakened by the clinking of a chain. She opened her eyes and saw Terri bending over her.  All her poise and superficial glamour had disappeared, her teeth were bared, her incisors dripped saliva and her eyes gleamed.  Terrified, Teresa saw the wolf within.  

‘Come on you brute,’ she snarled.  ‘ You’re off to the vet. I’m taking you for your last walk.’

The chain looped around her neck, Teresa’s paws skittered helplessly as she was dragged towards the door.

‘Noooo’ she howled, raising her muzzle to the ceiling.   ‘Noooo, you can’t.  Its murder!

                                                                      Copyright Janet Baldey