Before we begin this case file, The Archive wants you to imagine something.
Imagine you have a dog.
You are his world.
When you come home from an outing, he runs to the door to greet you. When you are at work at your desk, he sits right behind your chair. When you sleep, he makes sure he faces the bedroom door, if only to keep guard while you both rest.
He cuddles into your lap. He licks your face to show he loves your pets. He listens so perfectly to your voice, that you often forget he isn’t actually your therapist.
Now imagine he is in danger. He senses something. He barks, whines, and cries to you. He tells you again and again, but it never feels like you listen to him.
There is a reason we are bringing this all up.
To remind you of your dog, or your cat, or even your pet rabbit.
It is because we often take for granted what we have. We focus on all the bad in our life—the toxic job, the failing relationship, the uncaring friends—yet we forget to stop and let our thoughts breathe.
Instead, we linger. We let the dread take us over.
That isn’t because we want to. It’s because we are often told to.
The world says we must focus on the bad in order to improve. “How do I escape this or that?” “What can I do to make more money?” “What’s the next diet I can try?”
We keep ourselves in a cycle of self improvement and negativity, never escaping our minds, because we refuse to simply stop.
We refuse to pause. We refuse to believe there’s an end.
And so, we take for granted the good things that do exist. The sunshine, the fresh air, the dog.
Oh, that dog. How he will forever be at your side.
So The Archive must tell you this: pay attention to this case file.
Because this is not our ordinary case. No, our victim is not a Jane Doe or John Doe. In fact, he’s not really a victim at all.
He’s a good boy.
PART I: Sit
The Archive must admit that this case was fairly strange. It was not that we couldn’t piece together the story, but rather how easy it seemed to be.
We had no witnesses to turn to. Or, we did, but not the typical witness one would expect.
You see, the only key witness to Todd [REDACTED]’s death is his dog, Indy.
As you can imagine, it is quite difficult for us to speak with Indy.
And no, The Operator cannot speak to animals. That would be silly.
From first glance, it seems like a very cut-and-dry case. Todd suffered from a chronic lung disease that ran in his family, so he went to his grandfather’s old home to live out the rest of his days in peace.
The grandfather died in the same home, suffering from the exact same illness.
When Todd’s sister found his body, she found Indy alone in the basement. She has since adopted the dog as her own in honor of her brother.
And that is all The Archive is left with. Except, we wouldn’t be here if that were all, would we?
Months after Todd’s death, paranormal investigators began scoping out the home for any activity. Their logic assumed that if two family members died in similar circumstances, there must be an entity causing it.
Many left with zero evidence. However, there were few that presented something… worth looking into.
One team had a camera set up in the living room. It would take a photo any time there was movement. Below is what they captured:
At first glance, it seems like nothing. But as The Archive continued to examine the photograph, we finally caught the figure of a dog.
Sitting alone, looking outside the window, the apparition haunts the home. It seems to be guarding it, or possibly keeping something in.
The basement door of the house had scratch marks on the other side of it, as if something tried to get inside.
Found on that property, too, was the remains of a dog. Bandit, the grandfather’s pet, who stayed with his owner until he met him again in the afterlife. The Archive wonders if this is him, keeping the house safe for his owner, keeping a lookout in his eternal life.
The Archive couldn’t help but bring it back to Indy. Indy, who stayed behind on earth after Todd’s death.
What happened to him after the most important person in his life disappeared?
PART II: Stay
In the last few weeks of his life, Vera told us that Todd wasn’t himself.
He was disillusioned, mean, oftentimes annoyed.
Some would argue that as evidence that he was possessed by something. It must mean that an evil entity was slowly killing him, making him sicker by the day. Why, what else would it be?
It just meant he was facing death head on.
He was coming to terms with finality, and with that came a lot of emotional turmoil.
To grieve your own death is a complicated thing. To know you are leaving behind so many people. To realize how much stupid stuff you worried too much about. And yet… he had one anchor.
Indy was with him until his death.
He saw the good, the bad, the ugly. He saw Todd when he was healthy. He saw him in all his life transitions. And then, he had to see him in the final one—to watch his owner die, knowing he couldn’t do anything to protect him.
We often forget that animals are more complex than we think. We forget that they sense things, see things that we can’t. We forget that they grieve just as much as we do.
We are so used to the human perspective, that we always think about how we will react when the dog dies. We think, “I will be a mess when you go.” Yet, we never stop to think about how our dog may react when we leave first.
Dogs want to protect their owners. When they’re put in a position where that’s impossible, all they can do is stay. And grieve. And ultimately: love.
The dog never forgets how to love its owner.
In the end, it doesn’t matter how Todd died. What matters is that he felt loved, even if he was going through emotional turmoil. What matters is that Indy was always by his side.
PART III: Shake
We all take things for granted.
For some reason, we worry about the things that are missing in our lives instead of what we have.
We worry about our lack of discipline. We worry about our lack of romance. We worry about our lack of money. We worry about our lack of beauty.
But none of that should blind us from what we already have.
A dog doesn’t think about what he lacks, he thinks about what is right in front of him.
You come home and your dog lights up. They wag their tail, they have zoomies, they run up to you just to lean into your legs. They seek your body warmth when they’re cold. They see you as safe when it thunders.
They love you unconditionally. A true and completely pure unconditional love.
And sometimes, we forget that.
We look at our life and say: this sucks.
We compare ourselves to people online taking vacations to Bali. We don’t think we have enough muscle. We wonder if anybody ever notices us.
But why do we ask such things? Especially when your best friend notices you every day.
What did Indy do for Todd?
When Todd was sick, he curled up at his feet. When he was crying, he pawed at his leg. When he was happy… he embraced his joy.
Indy didn’t care that Todd had a chronic illness. He didn’t care that Todd was getting weaker by the day. All he cared about was being there with him.
Our lives are made up of connections and experiences. Your pet is part of that.
To take for granted the most beautiful love of all, is to deny yourself of the highest nirvana.
Conclusion
You may be wondering what the point in all this was.
The reality is that this file isn’t about the case itself.
It’s not about Todd’s death. Or if there was an entity. Or if the house was haunted or not.
It’s about Indy. Or, at least what Indy represents.
Indy is the dog who stayed. The bright and shining love that remained beside Todd until his final rest. Even now, Indy lives to spread the love he had for his person.
Your pet loves you more than anything. To you, you are the most amazing person in the world.
You are their everything.
You don’t need to buy another trendy item to fill the void of what is missing.
You just need to let your dog lay his head in your lap.
The Archive dedicates this case file to Blade and Crow.
To Blade, how much I miss you. What a special guy you were. A true gentle giant, who would lay under me while I lounged in the hammock on sunny days. You loved catching treats in the air and chasing after random rabbits. I hope you’re enjoying the beautiful meadows above.
And to Crow, who is the newest addition to my life. You’ve made things a lot easier. Despite the mental burnout I’ve been going through, when you came into my life, everything felt better. I get so excited to see you when I come home. My favorite part of the day is when I wake up and you scurry over for your morning cuddles.
I love you both dearly. You are my Indy!
The Archive shares external investigation work weekly. This week, we’d like to share a file from George R. Galuschak
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