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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/brackenish1 on 2024-10-16 05:35:01+00:00.

I’ve been a veterinarian nearly as many years as I haven’t at this point and some things have always rung true: the husband should never come to appointments alone, owners will ALWAYS want a nail trim, and dogs are more perceptive than we give them credit for.

We all know the stories. Dogs hunkered down before a big storm or seconds before an earthquake. A sense of precognition amongst calamity. But what if I told you it went beyond that? What if I told you we haven’t been listening? What if I told you, they were a warning system for greater things?

About a month ago I had a day of appointments. It felt similar to most others. Discuss the allergy, give the vaccine, why is your dog so fat? But one case was unusual. And unusual isn’t, well, unusual in my field but this felt different. He was an older German Shepherd. On his last legs so to speak but the owners primary issue was a new one for me: he was looking up towards the ceiling. Sure enough, as I walked into the room he barely paid me any notice and had his head firmly craned towards the front right corner of the room. You could’ve convinced me that someone hadn’t smeared peanut butter and grilled chicken on the walls with how indifferent this dog was to everything else. I did my exam and even some bloodwork but outside of things I could only reasonably chalk up to age he was fine. The owner didn’t report any other problems but were understandably concerned but it only started yesterday and they were willing to watch. He broke eye contact long enough to leave the room.

A week later 2 appointments showed up. One 9 year old Great Dane (shockingly good looking dog his age) and a 17 year old Chihuahua (the same could not be said for her). The owners separately reported that for the last week they caught their dogs staring up towards the ceiling. They found their spots to stare at and again they showed little interest in anything else and again everything else appeared normal. I found some solace in that at least the location appeared random but I do believe in 2 is a coincidence and 3 is a pattern and while nothing so far has tied to them to some mutual toxin exposure, I would search on.

3 days go by and I’m greeted by a young couple and their 7 year old Corgi. Now corgis aren’t neurologically appropriate on a good day but this one was on EDGE. Like his sleep paralysis demon was taunting him from the ceiling. If I moved him around he shot right back into position staring daggers into the same point at the ceiling. I asked when these signs started at they said “maybe 2 and a half weeks ago but nothing like it is now” and I started to feel dread. I took a breath and told them that a few other dogs have showed signs like this but nothing has been alarming and to keep me in the loop. This dog wouldn’t leave the exam room and had to be carried out, his head struggling to stay at a certain angle.

I sat down at the end of the day and thought back. Every owner was different. Address different. Common sites to play different. Different diets, habits, treats. What could be the common factor? Then something hit me. I have different exam rooms. Different rooms at different points of the hospital. I took my hunch and grabbed my phone. I opened the compass and pointed it where these dogs were staring. Every room, every point, same direction. About 60 degrees up , South by Southwest. I checked the news, weather forecast, astronomy forums. Nothing. I tried to calm down. I felt insane but it was only going to get worse.

About a week ago I had an owner bring in three 4 year old dogs. They were all from the same litter. I actually saw them for their annual exam a month prior and they were in great shape. But that was a month ago. 3 weeks ago the signs started. One minute they were lost in play, not a care in sight. The next, they froze. Each looking at the same invisible point. It would only be for seconds at a time. Then minutes. Then in the middle of the night. Then they started missing meals. They wouldn’t even go to the yard. Nothing else mattered to them. Their mom had visibly lost sleep over this. They went to the ER but the vet told them the same thing I did, nothing seemed wrong. But I couldn’t say that anymore. I asked Mom if anything had changed aside from the length of time. She said yes. They’re looking higher now.

It took me a second to notice but owners are so much more perceptive with their pets than I could ever be. And she was sure as shit right. Looking back, I could have and should have noticed. Every case, every new dog, their eyes drifting almost imperceptibly higher. I couldn’t tell her what was wrong. I told her we could watch them and do blood work, even X-rays, but nothing had come of these so far. I did manage to get her to relax a bit when I tried feeding them without moving them. They ate hungrily, but the wouldn’t move their neck down. The owner was relieved she could at least do that much.

3 days ago was the last day I was at work. I had a pretty normal day all things considered and hadn’t heard anything from the other owners. My second to last appointment was, I heard, the cutest puppy my team had seen all week and they couldn’t wait for me to see her. As I did, my heart dropped. She was beautiful. A gorgeous red and white heeler puppy, eyes a deep shade of blue, and a neck stretched right to ceiling directly overhead. The owners had no cause for concern. They just got the puppy and figured it was something she just liked to do but I had enough. I did one last exam that week. Trying to desperately to figure out a problem. I tried to move its head, I even repositioned its body and it did something none of the other dogs had done. It bit me. Not hard but not quite like a puppy. Like it was warning me that it needed to do this. I set down and looked at its face. A face of almost serene focus and I caught something in its eyes.

I saw fire.

I saw desolation.

I saw something on the horizon approaching from beyond its eyes.

I jumped back and excused myself. I called the other owners. Every. Single. Owner. Sent me to voicemail. Only one left an explanation.

“Hi, you’ve reached the Anderson’s. We’re going on a trip and can’t get to the phone! We’re not sure where yet but we just had a calling to go and even our dog seems excited! Leave a message.”

I told my staff I had to leave. I told the owners they should go. I wouldn’t charge them for today but they should consider going somewhere. Anywhere. And I left.

I ran out to my car and looked up. Nothing appeared out of place, not even a cloudy day to spell a bad omen but I raced home faster than I thought my car was capable of driving. And I locked the door.

My house was special. It was made during the red scare of cold war era politics. It was made with calamity of nuclear uncertainty in the air. The previous owner passed away and it was opened for sale. The bunker under the house made a well insulated basement but I needed it for its intended purposes and I still didn’t know why. It had water and a few days of food and a 6 inch thick metal door to close behind me. I had a radio to the outside and a satellite phone connection and for the first time in 3 and a half weeks, I felt safe.

12 hours passed. That’s when the first shockwave hit. I was passed out on the couch when it happened. My body had been so exhausted it was all I could do to sleep. I was thrown from the couch onto the floor and braced where I could and flipped on the radio. I heard confusion and panic and then… silence. Static. And then 2nd shock wave. And a third and a seventh before it stopped. I white knuckled my position for an hour before I let go and listened. I tried to tune the radio but it was dead. Every station static. I turned to my satellite phone and dialed the first number I could think. My best friend Mike who lived about 2 hours away from me, by plane.

I couldn’t even get two words out before he cut in “Holy hell, you’re alive?” My breath froze in my throat. A death rattle of frayed nerves and exhaustion. “What do you mean alive? I-I went to the basement and I felt a jolt-”

“Seven… Right?” I tried to talk and he kept going. “The military released a statement. A payload of missiles with a new state of the art targeting system malfunctioned. That’s what they’re telling us any way. Your city and nearly 40 miles around it… They’re gone. I wouldn’t move”

I nearly dropped the phone. My home. My work. My life… Gone. “Who-who do I call?”

“You don’t call anyone. Civilians can reach out if they know of any survivors. You just try and take a deep breath. I’m going to call and get this sorted out. Stay put.”

I’m writing my thoughts while I wait and if I can get this out there it means that, at least for now, I’m safe. This short manifest is both a journal and a warning. We are not a perceptive species. We teamed up with dogs 10,000 years ago for a reason. And I think I’m understanding the real reason. If you think your dog feels something is amiss, don’t ignore it. You listen. And you run.