Chapter 4: The First Grooves
The true escalation began on a Tuesday afternoon. I had finally managed to rock Lily into a fragile nap and stepped down the hall to compress a mountain of laundry. Within minutes, a bizarre, rhythmic sound echoed through the baby monitor.
Skritch. Skritch. Skritch.
It was a wet, heavy, scraping sound, followed by the unmistakable thud of a large body hitting drywall. I dropped the laundry basket and sprinted back down the hallway, throwing the nursery door open.
Daisy was squeezed into the narrow, eight-inch gap between the back of Lily’s crib and the wall. Her front paws were elevated, her massive body pressed flat against the vertical surface. She was furiously, violently digging at the drywall.
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"Daisy! No! Get out of there!" I yelled, my voice sharp with shock. I grabbed her by her heavy harness and hauled her backward. Daisy resisted, her claws digging into the carpet, her eyes locked onto the exact spot on the wall she had been assaulting. She wasn't barking; she was breathing heavily, her tongue hanging out, looking at the wall as if a living entity were hidden just behind the paint.
I cleaned up the plaster dust, furious that my pristine nursery was being systematically defaced by an animal I thought I could trust. I assumed she was suffering from a sudden onset of separation anxiety or bizarre behavioral jealousy regarding the baby. I scolded her severely, banished her to the living room, and closed the nursery door firmly behind me.
