This blog is an exploration of the paranormal through stories, experiences, videos, and photos. I will share my opinion on these things without a care of whether it will offend someone while staying anonymous. If you are reading this blog and don’t believe in the paranormal or are a skeptic, I don’t mind as long as you are respectful to me and anyone else who chooses to share their thoughts on the topic whether they believe or not. This goes for the believers too. BE RESPECTFUL.
A cool summer mornin’ in early June is when the legend began,….At a nameless logging camp in Wexford County where the Manistee River ran. ….Eleven lumberjacks near the Garland Swamp found an animal they thought was a dog. ….In a playful mood they chased it around …’til it ran inside a hollow log….. A logger named Johnson grabbed him a stick and poked around inside… Then the thing let out an unearthly scream and came out …and stood upright. …None of those men ever said very much about whatever happened then. ….They just packed up their belongings and left that night and were never heard from again.
It was ten years later in ’97 when a farmer near Buckley was found… Slumped over his plow, his heart had stopped. There were dog tracks all around. …Seven years past the turn of the century they say a crazy old widow had a dream ….of dogs that circled her house at night. They walked like men and screamed…. In 1917 a sheriff who was out a walkin’ …Found a driverless wagon and tracks in the dust like wolves had been a stalkin’…. Near the roadside a four-horse team lay dead with their eyes open wide…. When the vet finished up his examination he said it looked like they died of fright… In ’37 a schooner captain said several crew members had reported… a pack of wild dogs roaming Bowers Harbor. His story was never recorded….
In ’57 a man of the cloth found claw marks on an old church door… The newspaper said they were made by a dog. He’d a had to stood seven foot four…. In ’67 a van load of hippies told a park ranger named Quinlan… they’d been awakened in the night by a scratch at the winda… there was a dog-man looking’ in and grinnin.’ In ’77 there were screams in the night near the village of Bellaire… Could have been a bobcat, could have been the wind. Nobody looked up there…Then in the summer of ’87, near Luther it happened again…. At a cabin in the woods it looked like maybe someone had tried to break in…There were cuts in the door that could only have been made by very sharp teeth and claws…He didn’t wear shoes cause he didn’t have feet; he walked on just two paws… So far this spring no stories have appeared. Have the dogmen gone away? Have they disappeared?… Soon enough I guess we’ll know cause summer is almost here…. And in this decade called the 80s, the 7th year is here…. And somewhere in the northwoods darkness a creature walks upright And the best advice you may ever get… Is don’t go out at night…