"That's it. I'm filing a complaint against those damn dogs." Zoey snapped.

"Go for it. I don't think that useless landlord will do anything. She still hasn't fixed the laundry room door and that thing's been busted for..."

"I know, since before I moved in," Growled Zoey. She paused, the yapping and growling from the two dogs downstairs elevating through our living room window. "How long have they been barking and snarling like this? It's ridiculous."

I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh. "Feels like all fucking day.”

"Have you ever considered talking to the lady who owns them? How can you work from home with them barking like that?" Zoey asked, her hoarse voice waging a losing battle with the dogs below.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I've thought about that, but...I don't know she looks difficult."

Zoey crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean? What do you mean by difficult? The only thing that’s difficult are those fucking dogs. Jim, it sounds like they’re tearing the furniture to shreds. I’m pretty sure I heard one of the coffee table legs break, that’s how loud and disruptive they are.”

“I don’t know, she looks like the kind of old woman who’d use her age as a defense you know? Start saying crap like they’re the only companions she’s got, and that her age prevents her from calming them down. Then turn on the waterworks and play the victim when we haven’t even mentioned filing a complaint. Saying crap like: she’d die of loneliness without them.” I paused, trying to read Zoey’s reaction. “I mean, I could be way off and I probably sound like a dick, but she just comes off like that. And I'm sure you see the caretakers that are in and out of the apartment, emphasis on caretakers. Did you ever notice that?" I asked.

Zoey shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.

"They're always different, like every couple of weeks. They’re constantly changing, and my guess is that she's a bitch...or she's super difficult. Or hell, probably both."

Zoey shook her head. "Okay, I see your point, and I actually think you’re right. But I think we should say something."

I paused the television. "Are you thinking of doing something like that right now? Do you want me to go with you?"

Zoey nodded her head. "Yes, come with me. Seriously, I can’t knock out for fifteen minutes because of these shitter dogs."

"Alright, let's go talk to her. I guarantee you she's going to give us some bullshit story that she can't do anything. Oh, I can't maintain Rocky because he's too fast for me, and I can't calm Brownie down because she'll just get more agitated, blah blah blah." I mocked.

"It's worth a shot," Zoey said as she yanked open the front door.

Zoey stampeded down the stairs, huffing and puffing as she got closer to our neighbor's apartment. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her this angry. At this point, I was a bit worried for the woman, and even more worried for her shitter dogs. I could see Zoey delivering the news and punt-kicking one of the mangy mutts across the living room, possibly out the window and into the backyard. Zoey made her way to the woman's door, and I could see the veins pulsating from her right arm as she tightened her fist.

A penetrating odor wafted to my senses as I passed her front window. It smelled like rotting meat, but there was a sweetness to it as if the meat had been basting in cheap perfume. It brought tears to my eyes and it made my throat close up. I was scared to breathe with my nose, and even more afraid to breathe with my mouth in fear of tasting the odor. I’d been working from home all day…how did I not smell this?

“God her apartment smells like a crazy old lady,” Zoey muttered.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Both dogs started barking at a volume that escalated past ten. Their high-pitched barks caused my eardrums to ring in protest. I could hear their little nails as they clicked and clacked across the wooden floor, but it was deep within the apartment.

Why hadn’t they run to the door? Didn’t most dogs come bombarding to the front door when someone was there? The barking subsided, and the snarling continued. I strained my hearing from behind Zoey, it sounded awful in there.

And what was that smell? I fought back the urge to vomit and retreat to our apartment, discard the idea and move on with my life. After all, I didn’t notice the smell until now. It was becoming unbearable, I was starting to think that Zoey was so engulfed with rage that she had sidelined the smell to get her point across to our neighbor.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"How does she not hear this?" Zoey said through her teeth. “Maybe she’s deaf, and that’s why she’s oblivious to how annoying her fucking dogs are.” Tears welted up at the corners of her eyes…she was holding her breath.

From behind the door, the growling and snarling grew louder and more vicious. I could hear the sound of something tearing, but I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. It didn’t sound like furniture being destroyed, it didn’t sound like they’d gotten a hold of a book. It sounded different

It sounded…wet.

Zoey raised her hand to knock again, but I stopped her.

There was something very wrong in the woman’s apartment, and I couldn’t let Zoey walk in first. I gently pushed her behind me and placed my hand on the doorknob, turning it slightly, anticipating it to stop because of the lock. But it made a complete turn, the door opening with little to no force.

I gently pushed the door open…

The woman had been my downstairs neighbor for around three years, and I’d never gotten her name. So, I didn’t know what to think when I saw the dogs eating her. One was at her side, tearing away at the flesh on her fingertips, the bone exposed on her thumb and pointer fingers. This one seemed unaware of our arrival, far too invested in its meal. But the one standing on her chest noticed us, lips curling into a sinister smile, and behind those lips came a hungry growl. Her eyeball fell from between its jaws, landing on her eviscerated stomach before rolling onto the wooden floor with a soft plop. It gave us that high-pitched bark, and then a second later they were bolting towards us.

Zoey screamed and backed away from the door. I fumbled for the knob, grabbed it, and pulled the door shut at the last second as both dogs hurled their small bodies into the door. We frantically ran up the stairs to our apartment.

As the barking, snarling and chomping continued into the night.