The Michigan Dogman: A Diary

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I AM AN IMPERFECT MONSTER. They call me the Michigan

Dogman, but no one knows if I’m real. I’m what they call a legend of

Northern Michigan. Maybe a myth. Maybe not.

What I do know is that I’m very lonely, perhaps even ugly, but I’ve

never looked in a mirror. I know I scare people when they see me, so I

mostly hide until the night comes. With darkness, all things become equal.

I don’t turn into a werewolf and howl at the moon if that’s what you’re

thinking. I’m half-dog, and I’m kind like most canines. It’s my appearance

that frightens people, not my personality. I’m close to eight-feet-tall and

weigh an overwhelming five hundred pounds from what I’ve read. Yes, I

can read. That comes from being half-man.

I’ve not lived a privileged life by any definition, but I have been able

to live in the woods and in caves all my life. I was able to borrow used

books when I was young by breaking into different libraries a few times

over the years. I educated myself that way. It took a long time to figure

out the lettering system and sounding out the words and their meanings.

Picture books were the most helpful during that stage of learning.