I'm afraid of dogs. (Long)

I live in a rural Oklahoma about 20 minutes to the nearest town, so the visibility at night depends entirely on the moon phases and weather. The sky is truly beautiful in the country if you've never seen it, but the silence can be terrifying. My wife works late some times, leaving me alone most evenings until she inevitably trudges home grouchy and tired around 11pm. For added info there is no wolves here, regardless of what local legends say about the happenings of 100+ years ago and "They still could be here" or "Don't ruin it for the kids".

This night was quiet and I was watching youtube on m xbox when I hear coyotes outside crying to themselves as per usual. They sound close, as if in the far part of the closest field - behind our back yard. No big deal. They quiet down and I forget about it. Minutes later I hear one lone dog howling outside and it's closer but not in our large yard. The thing about coyotes is that one can make itself sound like it has company, but not this one. A stray maybe? Many people still dump unwanted pets out here, but I'd never once heard of a lone dog at night that didn't just come to the door. It stops and I forget again.

Maybe two minutes later I hear a cat screaming outside and remember my smallest cat had refused to come in for the night. Now I'm angry and grab the .22 and the handheld spot light we keep near the door and go out into the darkless in my pajamas skirt and "wife beater" tank top. I call my cats name and hear nothing, after several calls I start to fear the worst. She wouldn't be the first I'd lost to wildlife or strays turned feral.

I check around the house, the shop, barn, cattle lot, the run down trailer still sitting outside from yonder years. Nothing. I'm near the back fence now separating the legitimate back yard and that field. An all too familiar feeling of dread hits me that I've known since my childhood coming from beyond that rusted fence. The one blue-tented security light would barely reflect on the metal wire but could not reach the ground just beyond.

I stare into the black and hear hurried movement in the grass I couldn't see without the spotlight. I open the gate and call again. Finally my tiny black cat cries once and runs up my leg until under my long hair, almost pulling my pants down and clawing me in her rush. She is tense, wet and made no further noise besides exhausted panting. In the same moment of me putting my elbow up to support her and hopefully alleviate the pain from her claws digging in, a brown head appears in my spot light now aimed at the ground from the odd arm position. My head snaps up in time for a large dog to open its' mouth and stare into my eyes while bending down assumedly to lunge. Huge yellow strange eyes. Without thinking I shot it repeatedly at least 3 times. It fell over and I looked at it briefly, it was blocky, not like a coyotes figure but had a similar black side stripe. I looked around with the light and there was nothing more, the cat was now looking at me from the yard. She had bolted down and past the gate and I felt the sting and moisture of blood on my chest and shoulder from her. I turned and walked to the gate. I had wondered out further than I thought and was a good 10 feet away when I realized that the dog didn't writhe as anything does after a head shot. If you've never experienced that the body squirms after the brain is compromised. It's not a pretty sight. I stop and glance back only to see this dog crawling toward me 15 ft away in the darkness with eyes open, bloody face, and it was only then that I heared the dry grass move. Which I should have heard regardless. I think I jumped 3 feet in the air and new I was out of bullets, but it didn't stop me from trying to shoot again. "Click click click". Empty. *I ran* to the fence and didn't bother closing it, making it to the door where the cat was clearly waiting on me to open it. We went inside and I reloaded, shining the spot light at the gate the best I could via the livingroom window. Again, big yard and little light. Now there was also 40 year old butterfly bushes, basically trees now, between me and this gate. I walked out the back door, terrified. Squating near the ground with the light to see under the trees, and there was nothing. The gate was still open, there was no sound, no wind to speak of. I should have been able to hear something, but nothing. I called my wife, frantic, but she dismissed it as just another mutt bred in with the local coyotes. It made sense and she was probably correct. I spent the rest of the night watching the windows with low indoor lighting to improve my vision, and preferably not attract anything closer. My cat was fine thankfully, although I'm not sure how, and when my SO got home we went out looking with bigger guns each. There was nothing there but blood on the ground and bent grass. The unnatural feeling of dread was gone completely and I have yet to see anything like that again.

This dog though. Those yellow, intentional deep eyes peering into mine, the lack of sound it made moving so close to me or at a distance until I looked at it. I will never forget that dog and I have never seen eyes like that again.