A decade or so ago I attended a retreat for graphic design professionals in Texas. It was a weekend of workshops and networking out in the country northwest of San Antonio. This event took place on the grounds of a youth summer camp, and so lodging was divided into cabins (admin), chalets (counselors), and bunkhouses (campers). I stayed in one of the bunkhouses. The bunkhouse I stayed in had 4-5 rooms that shared the same long front porch. All of the doors looked the same, and so I learned to count them until I was at the one I was staying in.
This is an important detail of this story. I was three doors down.
After wrapping up all of the workshops, we let loose on the 2nd night. One of the chalets had been designated party central. Several attendees brought armloads of vinyl records to the event with them. The idea was that anyone could spin whatever they wanted. The beer flowed. We sang ourselves hoarse and eventually I hobbled off into the night, thoroughly intoxicated.
I stumbled the path back toward my bunkhouse in the wee hours, mumbling and chuckling to myself. Probably hiccupping too. Textbook drunkenness. As I got close to where I knew the bunkhouse to be, I realized there were no lights on. Anywhere. I was literally stumbling blind! It was pitch black. I cautiously approached the very dim outline of the few steps leading onto the porch. I had to crawl up them, as I couldn't really see them. (also... did I mention I was very drunk?) I couldn't see the porch at all. I stood very still for a moment, taking in the disorientation of being shit-faced in total darkness, then I began sliding along the front wall of the bunkhouse.
Door 1. Ok, cool. Aanndd... there's the window. Ok, haha, WTF this is fucked up... but I guess I need to keep going. Okayyyy… door 2! Ok, ooh, I hit that window a bit, hope I didn't spook anyone inside. Coming up on door 3 which should be right around...
A deep growling. A dog?? Coming from the space in front of me. I froze.
I kept as still as my broken equilibrium would allow. The growling eventually started to diminish. I took that as a sign to carry on. I tried to simply continue groping the front of the bunkhouse but I accidentally lurched forward. The growling intensified. I froze again. I was probably a few feet from my door. Where did this fucking DOG come from? Was it going to bite me? I stood puzzled for some time, unable to fully comprehend the situation.
The growling continued. I whispered a few curse words at the growling darkness and I heard a shifting as (presumably) the dog got to its feet and the growling grew closer. I started stumbling backward. I was so confused. I shuffled unsteadily backward until I nearly fell down the stairs. I wandered off towards a lit building where I could hear voices.
Some of the organizers were still awake and I sputtered my story at them. They seemed puzzled about the presence of a dog, and they threw me in the back of a golf cart and we went back to my bunkhouse.
The dog was gone. We looked around the whole bunkhouse but there was not a thing stirring. I got some concerned looks from the organizers as they filed off the porch. I wanted to regale my bunkmates with the tale of the phantom dog, but they were very much asleep. I crept into my bunk bed (thank GAWD I chose the bottom bunk) for some horizontal head-spinning until my constitution had enough and I passed out.
The next day I asked anyone who would listen, "did you see a fucking DOG last night?" No one had seen a dog. I slammed some aspirin and limped home to Austin.
That dog might respond to "Brian!"
That dog may have had two heads.