Following this, we're introduced to the Trenton family. Here, his loud barking prompts several bats to fly over and bite him on the nose. As the film opens, Cujo is playfully chasing a rabbit that escapes by running into a small underground cave, one whose entrance is so narrow that only the dog's head is able to squeeze through. In King's book and the 1983 film adaptation under review here, Cujo is initially the friendly dog of legend, the family pet of farm-dwelling Joe and Charity Camber and their young son Brett. Bernard came running at you then good luck trying to flick it aside with your foot. Bernard, indeed, that having such an animal turn on humankind feels almost like a betrayal. Bernard, an immensely likeable animal whose public image is one of helpful benevolence and that is known primarily for plodding through Alpine snow in search of lost hikers with a keg of revitalising brandy tied to its collar. In his 1981 novel Cujo, the monstrous dog was not a Doberman or Rottweiler but a St. Stephen King, of course, rarely takes the obvious route. This makes perfect sense, of course, as if you want to terrify an audience you call on the Hound of the Baskervilles, not Foo-Foo the poodle. I thus find it easy to accept the notion of demonic dogs in literature and film, especially as the canines in question tend to be the sort of breeds that could rip you to shreds even if not possessed. The only dog my family ever owned as a pet had a fit and inexplicably died, and during the course of a single summer when I worked part-time at a local dog kennels, the one time I was bitten was by the establishment's own Alsatian just seconds after being assured that its bark was worse than its bite. If I headed in the other direction, the dirt road I was forced to navigate would often be blocked by a snarling Alsatian. Back when I was a child, every time I cycled in the direction of the nearest town I would be chased by one of those aggressive yappy canines that only just qualify to be called dogs at all and that was mysteriously allowed to run free on the main road by its invisible owner. But for some reason I do have a particularly chequered history with dogs. In fact, I'm not an any-animal-you-care-to-think-of person.

It was a low, purring sound, soothing in its menace. Now he was on the crushed gravel twenty-five feet away. Now he was standing on the barnboards at the mouth of the garage.

He paced forward slowly, almost languidly. His terrible, thoughtless eyes never left Donna Trenton’s wide blue ones. Slarek revisits a favourite creature horror on one of Eureka's best featured Blu-ray releases yet.

Bernard dog in Lewis Teague's tense and tightly economical adaptation of one of Stephen King's darkest novels, CUJO. A mother and her child become trapped in the car by a rabid St.

Stephen king cujo dog