Just when I think that I knew it all about the paranormal, this vast and unpredictable world throws me a curveball. I’ve researched them all, and encountered more than a few, from strange Bigfoot varieties, the legendary and unmistakably sexy Mothman, a variety of ghosts(who are always a bad influence), time portals, robots and just about everything under the sun. However, the greatest cryptid of all time, the Michigan Dogman has managed to elude me.
The descriptions of the Dogman are striking: seven feet tall, jet black with glowing black eyes and heavily muscled, it is probably the most well established, most evidence-based cryptid in the game. There are so many credible eye witnesses, so many undeniable videos and crystal clear pictures, it’s actually shocking that anyone doubts the existence of this creature that is definitely the basis for werewolf myths the world over.
And yet, I haven’t actually encountered this awesome creature. A couple of months ago, I had a good lead, but it turned out to be nothing more than a common kangaroo that had found its way to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, a misfortune that could happen to any of us. While the fearsome Australian marsupial was a worthy opponent, it ended up in the waters of Lake Michigan, a misfortune that could happen to any of us.
The local gas station was good to me on my last trip to the U.P., and I was able to get some more information out of the chatty folk that hang out in those sorts of places. A particularly rotund gentleman who carried some sort of walking stick approached me, recognizing me from the pages of The Reality Register, an occurence that has been happening quite a bit lately. After I bummed a few bucks off of him to top off the Durango, the gentleman was happy to share the latest dirt: the government has been crossbreeding Dogmen with a wide variety of domestic dog breeds at a secretive facility out in the woods.
I was shocked, as the Dogman is so ferocious that it would seem impossible to capture one alive, and the idea of killing one is laughable. Hearing my concerns, the gentleman told me that they were able to capture egg cells from the menses heaps that were found around the full moon, the uterine discharge of a Dogwoman who ovulated unsatisfied. From there, he says, it was a simple matter to clone the egg’s genetic lines, and fertilize with dozen of breeds of domestic dog. Poodles, St Bernards, Huskies, Hot Dog Dogmen, those weird wrinkly dogs, and of course the Golden Retriever. Pit bulls, he said, were too dangerous and the resulting offspring were considered impossible to put to use.
But why? Why use cutting edge dog science to adulterate the genome of the best cryptid ever discovered? Dogman is already perfect! He ain’t broke, don’t fix him, I said.
By my three legged friend said that they planned on replacing large parts of the workforce with these hybrids. Dogman himself, he’s too strong willed and independent, and it just wouldn’t be right to enslave him. Some sort of half breed stolen clone half caste, however, they have no problem using as they see fit. These creatures are meant to replace everything from security guards, construction workers, police, fire, teachers, actors, lawyers and even primary care doctors. Pharmacists, he said, are going to be safe, as it’s impossible to replicate their expertise, at least not until someone devises a piece of software that can count pills and print out a list of side effects and possible drug interactions.
While I agreed that pharmacists are the greatest heroes of our time, and that it would be folly to attempt to circumvent their awesome powers of working at CVS, I had a hard time believing the rest of the story. He gave me an address and told me to go check it out myself, as the creatures were allowed to roam outside at night under the watchful eyes of heavily armed guards. I thanked the man, and headed out to find my story.
The facility was actually pretty easy to find, and I stashed the Durango at a local trailhead, and hiked through the woods to find what I could. As the sun set, the bright floodlights came on and I could see the chain link fence in the distance, the razor wire glinting pink in the surreal twilight. I got as close as I could without being seen, and watched through my binoculars as guards opened a gate and a large yellow creature emerged. It was gigantic, all of 7 feet, blood red eyes glowing in the darkening night. It wagged a giant tail, and I recognized the idiotic happiness of all Golden Retrievers as it panted and let its enormous tongue dangle. It bounded from side to side, going from bipedal to all fours and back again over and over as it let a huge case of the zoomies run wild.
The guards stayed back, keeping a watchful eye, and I could see the fear on their faces. The zoomies ran out, and the Golden was gone, his Dogman heritage coming to the fore and he quickly knocked a guard to the ground. He turned crawl away, and I felt myself rise from the shadows. Why would I help this government stooge, this hired muscle who is willing to do the bidding of even these evil dog scientists? Still, I ran and shouted, entering an open gate with my human dexterity, jumped and yelled, distracting the yellow beast. It snarled, and looked at me, and I felt a primal fear that I thought was the stuff of fairytales.
Quickly, I realized that I had made an enormous mistake so I turned to run, and I felt a heavy paw land on arm, and a girlish scream escaped from my mouth. It was enough, the paw retracted in a moment of surprise, and the guard that I had saved returned the favor by engaging with the enormous beast, though it was an ill advised act. The yellow Dogman really made a mess of the man, biting his jugular and lapping up quite a bit of blood, and consuming quite a lot of flesh in a very short time. I was frozen, watching the gory scene and wondering if I would find an opening to stomp on some monster nuts.
It turned out that I didn’t have to, for the creature rolled in the mess he had created, and bounded through the gate that I had left open. As it disappeared into the night, I couldn’t help but notice that I hadn’t actually found the real Dogman, and had instead encountered a paler imitation, though one no less ferocious. The guard breathed his last, and I quickly grabbed his wallet and fled back into the trees, the other guards and dog scientists occupied in the pursuit of their artificial abomination.
It turns out the guard carried a large sum of cash on him, and foolishly wrote his PIN in sharpie on his debit card, so I was able to make this whole trip worthwhile, at least for me.
Mohammed Sinclair
