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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/jeshi_O_toko on 2024-09-19 00:26:31+00:00.

It’s been about a week since this all happened, and I can’t stop thinking about it.

A close family friend needed someone to watch over their house while they went on vacation. I had done it a few times before, so they contacted me to see if I was interested in doing it again. I needed the money, so I agreed to it. They are rather affluent, and the house they live in is probably twice as large as mine. It has two stories, a huge front and backyard for the dog to play in, and fencing that wraps around the whole length of their property to keep their dog from wandering too far.  

The instructions they left for me were the same as last time: feed the dog in the morning, and let it outside while I was away at work.  When I got back to their house in the evening, let the dog back in the house, and feed it again. Simple as that. 

Their dog is a golden retriever named Cooper. He’s always a joy to take care of. He’s very energetic, lovable, and is super friendly to everyone he meets. That’s all there was to it. As long as Cooper was happy and taken care of, I’d done a good job. It was easy money. 

Okay, enough exposition. This happened on the last night that I was watching over their house, a day before they got back. 

I had fed Cooper and put him outside before I went to work. I’d fed him a little extra, because I knew that I would be coming home late, and I wouldn’t be able to feed him at the usual time. When I finally got off work, the sun was almost set, and it was beginning to get dark outside. I punched in the code to the main gate to get into the property, and parked my car. This was when I first noticed something was off. Cooper usually comes to greet me when I arrive back at the house, but he was nowhere to be seen. I had brushed it off, and figured it was because I came back so late in the evening.

When I had finally entered the house, I saw cooper outside, sitting behind the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. He remained still, staring into the house. It was strange seeing him like that, since he’s usually jumping at the door, eager to be let inside and get his dinner and some pets. Again, I ignored it and went to fill his food bowl before letting him inside. When he sees me doing this, he usually gets ecstatic, like it’s his first time seeing food. I had glanced back, and saw him with that same stare, still motionless, waiting for me to open the door.

And without a second thought, I did. When I opened the sliding glass door, he immediately came inside. His eyes were fixed on me as he strode into the house, and once again, sat down and remained still. He didn’t go to his food bowl, and he didn’t go lay in his bed. Nothing but an empty, unwavering stare. My first thought was that he was sick. I also thought that maybe I was just overly tired from work, and was overthinking it. His owners were going to be back home the very next day, so I decided to simply wait it out, and let them deal with it.

By this time, it was fully dark outside, and I was sitting on the couch, watching TV in the living room. Cooper sat next to his bed over near the corner of the room. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, still motionless. 

It was quite hard to hear over the show that I was watching, but it was definitely there. Every once in a while, I would hear it; a scratching sound coming from behind me at the sliding glass door. With the TV on, and me being as tired as I was, I disregarded it. But it kept happening. Over and over and over again. The scratching only intensified, and soon it was constant. There was an urgent tone to it, like whatever was scratching at the door needed to get in. 

Eventually—and reluctantly—I gave in, and got up to see what it was. I had to do a double take when I got to the sliding glass door. Jumping at the door, trying to get in, was Cooper. At first, I thought it was another dog that just so happened to look exactly like Cooper, who I had let inside when I first got back to the house, and was sitting in the living room, still as a statue. But the dog that was outside looked exactly like Cooper. It had to be Cooper; his mannerisms were the same, and he was energetically jumping at the door, desperate for me to open it. And so I did.

Cooper immediately went to his food bowl and started eating. I returned to the living room only to find it empty. By this point, I was really starting to get confused. I called for the other Cooper, but heard nothing. If it had been walking, I would have been able to hear its nails tapping against the hardwood flooring of the house. I called out again, and the Cooper that I had just let inside came over to me. I could hear all four of its paws clack against the floor as he sauntered over.  

I walked to the stairs that led to the bottom floor of the house, and called out again. Just like before, there was nothing. I didn’t hear any of the doors open, so the other Cooper still must have been in the house. With Cooper by my side, we went to the guest bedroom, and I got ready for bed. I locked the door behind me, and got myself settled. Cooper laid at the foot of the bed, and I tucked myself into the covers, trying to brush off the confusing nature of the night, and finally get some rest after such a long day.

It wasn’t long after that when I heard it. The nails of a dog walking along the hardwood floor of the house. But it was different from the sound of Cooper’s. It was much, much heavier, almost as heavy as the sound a person would make. And the clacks of the nails on the floor were more spread out, as if whatever was out there was walking on two feet. It sounded distant, but it was getting closer. I could hear it getting louder as it took careful, slow steps up the stairs, one foot at a time. Eventually, it came up to the spare bedroom’s door, and stopped. The hallway lights were on, and they were casting a shadow of whatever was out there. The shadow was spread out, elongated, creeping under the door. And there it stood, motionless, inches away from the locked door. That was my only comfort; that the door was shut, and locked with a flimsy bolt. The only thing I could do was watch the door, and try to slow my alarmingly rapid heart rate.

Eventually, the sun rose, and the house was once again filled with the warm glow of sunlight piercing through the windows. I heard the rumbling of the garage door opening, and the sound of car doors closing shut. Cooper jumped down from the bed and waited for me to let him out. My hand was shaking as I undid the bolt, and slowly turned the doorknob to reveal an empty hallway. Cooper ran out, but stopped at the top of the stairs, and dropped his head to smell the steps. My heart rate slowed, and I quickly got myself dressed before Coopers owners walked into the house. 

I didn’t want to seem like an insane person, so I didn’t mention the events from the previous night. Strangely, Cooper didn’t come to greet them, but instead went downstairs. After a bit of small talk with the owners, I packed up my belongings and got ready to leave. As I was saying my goodbyes to the family and made my way to the door, I glanced back and saw Cooper, sitting motionless by the stairs, watching me with his big, blank eyes.