Canine Perspective

by Ivan Ackley

In the city of Berkeley, California, there is a secluded viewpoint, tucked in the hill above the local university. Above the football stadium, and past blind corner after blind corner, you eventually reach a spot called Panoramic, where you can see the entire bay, from the Oakland ports to the Golden Gate Bridge. There is a wooden bench carved into a log, where you can sit and enjoy the stunning sunset. That's where the first body was found. On January 2^nd, the young, but very dead corpse of female college student Sasha Jacobs was discovered next to the bench by a jogger.

The cause of death was clear. Her body had been mauled all over, gnawed on from head to toe. Not only had she been killed, but also it was clear that part of her was eaten, probably after she died. At first, detectives did not even know what kind of animal was responsible, for any tracks that it had left were soon washed away by the fierce storm the night before. However after testing on the bite wounds was done, it was discovered that the animal responsible was a Canis lupis familiaris. A dog had killed her.

After more testing, it was concluded that the dog had no trace of rabies. Police had no idea what to do. Catching human criminals was one thing, for humans have motives. But an animal? How can you deduct who is responsible for something that they cannot be held responsible for? All they could do is regard it as an isolated instance until evidence pointing otherwise surfaced. Which it did, in the form of another body.

This time that of fifty-one year old Donald Fable. He was found in the same conditions as the other corpse, mauled and partially eaten. Another jogger had discovered him in the early morning this time face down on a side path some 100 yards from the site of the first killing. Next to his body was Donald’s dog, also dead, mauled, but not eaten. The town of Berkeley was in panic. Rumors began circulating of a werewolf, animal testing, and occult rituals. Some people even began to blame global warming somehow. After a third gruesome murder, the city was buzzing with a mixture of fear and anger. They were calling for the heads of the mayor, the police chief; pretty much any public official was a public enemy.

That's where I came in. My name, you do not need to know, very few do. I am not a detective, but I detect, solely on a must need basis. I am not on any government payroll, but I am paid by the government; paid to think. When detectives cannot find any answers, the questions are posed to me. In return, I live a comfortable life in a 3-bedroom house, and drive a 2010 Prius, all paid by your tax dollars. When they came to me they were at their wits end. They had no leads as to the origin of the dog, and therefore had resolved to attempt to capture it. Every day at dusk, traps set with raw beef were set all over the panoramic wilderness, but to no avail. A few bobcats were caught, but no dogs. It was time to think, so I put my proverbial thinking cap on, and got to work.

Every time a new conundrum is brought to my attention, I follow the same thinking ritual. First, I pour myself a cup of tea, black with no milk or sugar, light a cigarette, and sit in the oversized leather armchair in my study overlooking the water. Then the thinking begins. With every puff, every sip, my the gears of my consciousness began to turn, every click faster than the last, until my brain was at maximum speed, chugging along and processing information like a biological computer.

I sat like that for a matter of hours, silently stewing. I worked though every explanation that came to mind, focusing on it until I proved it wrong. Then, just like time and time before, the light bulb above my head went off. I stood up, grabbed my briefcase, a flashlight, and the butcher knife from my kitchen, and headed to my car. From there I drove straight to the university. Entering the doors of the medical facilities, there was no need to show any identification to security, they knew who I was. My face was clearance enough. It was late in the day on a Friday, and the few people still around were too busy with thoughts of home to pay me much attention. I took the elevator to the bottom floor, where the cadavers are kept, and headed through the refrigerator doors.

The room was cold, and the air stale. I moved to the shelves and began scanning the drawers for something fresh. I had to move quickly, this was risky business. I pulled out the body of a freshly killed 40-something year old woman. I moved her arm out to the side, and pulled the butcher knife out of my coat pocket. With one swift motion, I dismembered the limb. I then wrapped it in a garbage bag, put it in my briefcase, and left as fast as I could.

The wind was strong up at Panoramic. The sky was clear, and the moon full, one of those nights that I would find beautiful under other circumstances. I set out to the first trap at full alert, with my .45 close by on my waist. When I got to it, I unwrapped the garbage bag, and began setting the trap. By the time I left Panoramic, a total of three traps had been set. Now there was nothing left to do but wait.

I was awoken with a phone call from the chief of police.

“Hello?”

“We did it! We got him!” I could hear the relief in his voice. “Goddamnit, I don't know what you did but we got him!”

Turns out he was actually a she. When I got down to the station, I was taken to a makeshift cell in an interview room. Inside the cage was the largest dog I had ever seen. She had a look in her eye, one I had never before seen in any animal. After extensive testing on the beast of a dog, now nicknamed “Mrs. Cujo”, it was concluded that genetic mutation was responsible for altering the dog’s appetite to only crave human flesh. Where she came from, we never found out, and that was the scariest part of the entire ordeal in my opinion. I later recognized that look years later in the eyes of a cannibalistic serial killer during a courtroom interview.