Pet Reader

Suspense Stories | Jun 18, 2013 | 4 min read
8 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
I guess this is it, Ben thought, staring thoughtfully at the bottle of Pet Reader capsules in his hand. He was reasonably doubtful of this new patented technology of the future. He would have to swallow a pill to find out if it actually worked. If what the infomercial dominating the late-night air waves promised would actually allow him to communicate with Buster, his five-year old Golden Retriever better… to read his thoughts.

"I guess I'll finally get to know what goes through that cranium of yours," he said, and rubbed Buster behind the ear. He got up from the couch and fetched himself a glass of water.

It wasn't long before familiar trots entered the kitchen with tail wagging and a curious glance. "Are you ready, boy?" Ben asked an impatient Buster. "I am, if you are."

Studying a blue Pet Reader capsule between his index and forefinger, he shrugged. He figured if something bad happened from taking it, at least his brother's wife could take care of Buster. If anything, the understanding company of a furry companion might ease the extra quietness in the house since his brother, Roy's death.

Ben downed the pill with a large gulp of water. For a moment, Ben and Buster shared an unblinking moment's stare. Suddenly Ben felt compelled to re-enter the den. He picked up the last known picture of his brother he'd taken of him while they were on a fishing trip together. Decked-out in fly fishing apparel, Roy was smiling, holding up an eighteen-inch Rainbow Trout. Ben couldn't put the picture back on the fire mantel … he was being watched. His shoulders stiffened and he could feel the thin hairs on the back of his neck slowly springing. He turned.

"How're you doing, boy?" Buster had followed him in and now sat tail-wagging, as if waiting for something to happen; for the capsule to kick-in, perhaps. Ben's hands became clammy, and the stiffening on the back of his neck became cold that went riding up from his lower back, which was now cold and pasty. He imagined then a detached cold dead-hand crawling down by its finger-tips, but the beads of sweat reminded him of otherwise. They trickled down his back.

"What's happening?" he muttered. He glanced at Roy's picture then back at Buster. Ben hadn't recognized it before—concern had only been on the effects of the Pet Reader capsule might've had, but now there was no escape to grab his attention away from the truth staring him in the face.

He took a longer glance at Roy's picture then shifting his gaze back to Buster. As he remembered since the afternoon he brought him home as a pup, his eyes had always been light brown. But a light blue were still staring back at him.

"It's a hell of a thing, isn't it?" The voice came clear in Ben's mind, but Buster's mouth hadn't moved. Ben couldn't bring his hands from shaking. He dropped Roy's picture.

"Hey, Benny. Take it easy." The familiar voice came again.

"Only one person ever called me that," Ben said, and it barely came out. Even though he'd dropped his brother's picture, his face was still clear in his minds-eye—through Buster's eyes.

"It's been awhile," Roy's voice came into Ben's mind again. "Yes, I know I look a little different now, but I had to take over your dog's body for a moment. There's something I think you should know."

Ben sighed, hoping he could calm the growing thuds in his chest. His heart seemed to have moved into his ear drums.

Roy went on to tell him of the reason of his death, which had been noted as an allergy-attack to medication he had supposedly been taking. He'd died from an allergic reaction to a Pet Reader capsule. He had taken it, looking forward to the instant results the commercial claimed it had, leaving him still unknowing whether he could communicate with his beloved house-cat, Snowball.

"You died because of Pet Reader?" Ben's eyes widened. "After all this time, why was it kept a secret?"

"Lack of proof," Roy said simply, in his usual calm undertone. "My autopsy showed nothing. But, I still dropped like a sack of potatoes in the garage, nonetheless. No trace of Pet Reader was found in my system, but my wife knew I was taking it. She had been, too. The coroner summed it up as an allergic reaction to it. That's what they put under "Cause of Death" on my death certificate, anyway. But I know it was because of Pet Reader.

Ben hummed as he thought for a second. "So you came back to warn me about Pet Reader? But I already took a capsule!"

"Maybe nothing bad will happen to you," Roy said. "But the capsule is the reason why I could tell you, and why I'm even here. Nothing can make a person read their pet's thoughts, Ben. It's not their thoughts you're reading … it's someone else's. That's the key to Pet Readers' success. You may think you're reading your pet's thoughts and are able to communicate together, but that's not the case.

Ben picked up Roy's picture and placed it back on the mantel. "Are you telling me Pet Reader helps to communicate with the dead?"

"Now you got it, Benny," Roy said, cheerfully.

"But, then I guess the rest of the Pet Reader capsules are useless."

"Not exactly," Roy said. "I'm here aren't I? And I'll always be here as long as you keep taking Pet Reader capsules."

Ben rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. The hairs had all flattened in a clump. A wide grin appeared across his face.

"I guess Pet Reader isn't about helping to communicate with just one best friend," he said finally. "I guess now I can with two."

"You can also pass Buster a treat about now," Roy said. "Being alive reminded me of just how hungry I can get."
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