The Perfect Companion

Synopsis: A man struggles to understand the strange and terrible events of the day, only to learn they may have prevented an even greater horror.

“Our first concern is your daughter,” the officer says. 

“That’s good to know because she’s scarred for life. And if anyone is liable it’s Perfect Companion. Or that handler. That so-called magician… that sorcerer.” 

“We’ll deal withPerfect Companion,” she says. “For now—"

My mind is still racing. “How’s my neighbor? How’s Mr. Charles?”

“Not well” is all she volunteers. 

Not wellis an understatement. Lucky to be alive. He looked more like he’d been attacked by a lion than a dog. 

I couldn’t have anticipated this. The dogs are so friendly. Every kid is walking around town with their Perfect Companiondogs, who wear red vests advertising the show.People debate whether the dogs are truly magical, but either way the kids love them. After today, they’re going to wonder where exactly these dogs are really from. Maybe from hell. 

“Tell me what you saw,” says the officer. “Try to stay calm.”

Of course she says that. But she’s right; I need to get through this and get back to Laura. She needs me. 

“We promised Laura a Perfect Companion for her birthday,” I tell her. “She loves dogs, so ever since the show rolled into town she’s been on us about it. We had our ticket, a few other kids in front of us. All of them have a great experience. They get these really cute dogs, little poodles and pugs—that kind of thing.”

I’m remembering just how magicalit really seemed. “They really do seem like…perfect companions,” I tell her.

“The handler—that’s what they call him, but he’s dressed up like some kind of Showman—he calls Laura up front, and asked her some questions about herself.”

“Like what?”

“Simple stuff. Her name, how old she is, why she wants a dog. That kind of stuff. Then—" 

I want to make sure she gets this part. I slow down my story. “He takes her by both hands and smiles. With all the otherkids, at that point, he says something about how much they’re going to love their Perfect Companion. How it’s special just for them.”

“Does he say that to her?”

“No. He starts to say the normal script but cuts himself off. He lets go of her hands, almost like he felt something. He mumbled something, then just went to the next part of the routine.”

She’s writing this down. That’s good. 

“Then he goes to the shelf and pulls down little stuffed dog, just like with the other kids. But he reaches to the top shelf and pulls down—I guess it’s like a Rottweiler or something. Big dogs aren’t really Laura’s thing, so I’m like, hold on a minute, this is not quite her ‘perfect companion’! But before I can say anything he goes into the whole stethoscope routine.” 

“Explain that part.”

“He has Laura listen for the heartbeat, and of course there isn’t one, it’s just this stuffed animal. Then he shrugs as if he’s saying, like, what are we going to do? Then they put the stuffed dog in the cage. He takes off his cape and uses it like a big blanket to drape over the cage.” 

This part I keep replaying in my mind. How did he do it? He was on one side of the cage, Laura on the other. The cage was on a folding table, there wasn’t a tunnel or any other access point Icould figure. Then he announced, “And now! Your PerrrrrfectCOMPANION!” He pulled off the cape, revealing the living, breathing animal inside. 

I pause as I recall my first sight of that dog. I wasn’t afraid—not yet—just surprised at the size of it. 

“What next?” 

“That’s when it happened,” I say. “With all the other kids, he would let the dog out and do the stethoscope thing again. I mean, obviously it’s a living dog now, however that happened. But they would go through the motions and have fun with it. But in this case…” 

I look down at the floor. The memories are disturbing. I can only say, “He went right for him.” 

“Right for Mr. Charles?”

I nod. “It had this…this terrifying determination. My daughter just screamed…” She wasn’t the only one screaming, I think. My hands cover my eyes as I try to wish away the memories. Especially what this monster did to my neighbor. 

A few moments pass and I realize it’s silent. The officer quietly closes her notebook. 

Is that it? Are we done?

“Mr. Shelby,” she says. “How well did you know your neighbor, Mr. Charles?”

“Umm…” I have to think. “Well, he’s always out on his porch, and taking walks, a friendly sort. But how well do I know any of my neighbors really?”

“Yes,” the officer says. “And he’s only had the name Steve Charles about that long too.” 

“What?” I ask. “What was his other name?”

“Names,plural,” she says. “I can show you the names if you’d like, along with his crimes. But this has been a hard day for you, Mr. Shelby. I’m not sure you need so much detail on one of the nation’s most notorious sexual predators.”

“What we do need, however,” she continues, “is confirmation that these are pictures of your daughter?” She spreads out a handful of photos on the table. 

I’m stunned. There are pictures of Laura playing in our front yard, walking to school, some other candid shots. “Yes…?”

“From his phone,” she explains. 

“This is off the record,” she says. “I don’t know whether it’s magic or luck. But that dog seemed to know something.”

“The perfect companion,” I say quietly. 

“I know your daughter will need help to process this experience. For now, you need to know that the dog was probably the best birthday present she could ask for.”

I thank her, weakly, as I rise to leave. 

“Let’s get her an appointment with a psychologist,” she says. “And personally, I’d recommend another Perfect Companion.”