The Oregon Coast Dogman Encounter: A Midnight Brush with the Impossible

A Strange Night on the Oregon Coast

I’ve always considered myself a rational person. I don’t chase conspiracy theories, and I’ve never been one to see monsters in the dark. But a few nights ago, something happened on the Oregon coast that I can’t explain — and I can’t shake it.

I live on the edge of a forest, close to the ocean, where thick pines back right up to quiet neighborhoods. It’s peaceful, remote enough to feel private, but not so rural that you expect anything out of the ordinary.

That night around midnight, I woke up to the sharp pop of a mousetrap. I do humane catch-and-release, so I didn’t want the poor thing to sit there all night panicking. I decided to drive it a few miles away to release it in the forest. Nothing unusual — until my stomach turned.

An Ominous Feeling

Before I even started the car, my gut started twisting in knots. It wasn’t nerves or nausea. It was a deep, physical dread — as if something was wrong. The sensation was so intense it made me pause. I remember thinking: What’s happening? Why do I feel like I’m in danger?

I brushed it off and started down my street with the mouse cage beside me. I had gone less than a block when I slammed on the brakes.

Something massive stood on the side of the road.

At first, I thought it was the tallest dog I’d ever seen. But as my headlights hit it, my brain screamed that what I was seeing wasn’t normal.

The Creature

Its silhouette was pitch black against the trees — darker than the night itself. Moving slowly, it stepped out into the light and crossed the road directly in front of me.

It wasn’t running. It wasn’t panicked. It was deliberate.

Whatever it was, it was at least four times the size of a normal wolf, but thinner — almost lanky. Its spine arched high, like a human hunched over on all fours. Its head was distinctly canine, long and angular, with fur so black it swallowed the light.

I could see the muscles in its back and legs shift as it moved. The limbs were too long — like a person imitating a dog’s walk. It was horrifying and surreal, and I froze completely.

The first thing my mind compared it to was Professor Lupin’s werewolf from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. That’s how it looked — a humanoid wolf with elongated limbs and a terrible, unnatural grace.

It moved fluidly across the road, each motion too intelligent for an animal.

Then it turned its head toward me.

The Energy in the Air

Even before it looked at me, I could feel it.

The energy around it was heavy — dark, oppressive. It was more than fear; it was like standing in the presence of something that didn’t belong in our world. My skin prickled, and a deep, instinctive panic flooded my body.

The creature stopped for just a moment in the beam of my headlights. I swear it knew I was there. It was watching me think.

I’ve never felt that kind of terror. I didn’t wait to see what it would do. I hit the gas and drove past it, trying not to look in the rearview mirror.

As I passed, I glanced left — and saw it standing by a bush, watching me. Upright now. On two legs.

The Flight Home

By the time I pulled into my driveway, I was shaking. I jumped out, slammed the garage door shut, and just stood there in silence, waiting to hear if it had followed me.

Nothing.

When I finally caught my breath, I told myself I must have imagined it — but deep down, I knew that wasn’t true.

The next morning, curiosity got the better of me. I searched online for “Dogman sightings Oregon” and found story after story describing exactly what I’d seen. The size. The movement. The glowing eyes. Even the feeling of dread beforehand.

It was all there.

What are the odds that so many people could describe the same creature so precisely — down to the shape of its head and the way it moves?

The Aftermath

I tried checking my security cameras the next day — every single one had stopped working that night. Batteries full, storage clear, but no footage.

Since then, I’ve had other strange occurrences. Something brushing the cameras, a shadow passing in front of the lens, faint tapping on the roof. Twice, I caught what looked like a long, thin appendage reaching into the frame before curling back out of view.

Locals here have started talking about the same thing — lights flickering, strange shapes in the woods, pets vanishing.

One man told me that creatures like this can see infrared light, the same light that triggers motion cameras. He said they know exactly how to avoid being seen.

I don’t know what I saw that night — but I know it wasn’t a dog, a bear, or a trick of the light.

It was intelligent. It was aware of me. And it wanted me to know that.

Location: Lincoln County, Oregon Coast

Witness: Anonymous

Edited for clarity and published by ParanormalLink.com