The world of children’s horror literature in the 90s was a wild west of spooky stories, and amidst the ghoulish stampede, Bone Chillers emerged as a notable series aiming to send shivers down young spines. While perhaps not as globally recognized as Goosebumps, Bone Chillers carved its own niche, boasting a TV adaptation and a dedicated fanbase. Penned primarily by Betsy Haynes, an author with a solid background in children’s literature, the series offered a blend of chills and thrills. Today, we’re plunging into one of its most unsettling entries: Little Pet Shop Of Horrors.
Why this particular book? Frankly, availability played a part. While titles like “Why I Quit The Babysitter’s Club” or “Blowtorch @ Psycho.com” sparked curiosity, Little Pet Shop of Horrors was the chosen specimen for examination. And let’s be honest, the cover, likely crafted by the iconic Tim Jacobus (known for his distinctive Goosebumps artwork), practically screams for a closer look, even if his realistic kid faces can be a tad unsettling. While the cover effectively conveys the premise, it’s the sinister narrative lurking within that truly captivates.
A chilling book cover featuring a realistic depiction of a young girl’s face, with oversized, frightened eyes reflecting a monstrous, shadowy paw reaching towards her, hinting at the pet shop of horrors theme and the sinister events within the story.
The story unfolds with Cassidy Cavanaugh and her friend Suki Chen, two ordinary kids on bikes, stumbling upon an anomaly: a pet shop that materialized out of thin air. Named “Custom Pets” and run by the enigmatic Mr. Willard, the shop promises any pet imaginable. For Cassie, a self-proclaimed animal lover, this is irresistible. Despite Suki’s unease and quick exit, Cassie is intrigued. Mr. Willard’s parting words, “You’ll be back,” coupled with a chilling laugh, immediately set off alarm bells, establishing him as a figure of suspicion.
Their encounter takes a darker turn when they cross paths with David Ferrante, the neighborhood bully. David, brandishing a white box containing a tarantula – a victim of his cruel entertainment – reveals he acquired it from the very same mysterious pet shop. In a disturbing display of torment, David hurls the spider at Cassie. This scene immediately establishes a sense of unease and foreshadows the animal abuse content warning that the original reviewer aptly highlighted.
Driven by her longing for a pet, specifically a hypoallergenic dog to circumvent her allergies, Cassie returns to Custom Pets alone. Mr. Willard assures her he can fulfill her request, but a large dog suddenly emerges, lunging at Cassie before being harshly subdued by Willard. The dog’s sad, almost pleading eyes, and Willard’s rough handling, amplify the unsettling atmosphere. Cassie, surprisingly sensible, mentions consulting her parents before committing to any pet, showcasing a spark of responsibility amidst the creeping dread.
However, parental rationality intervenes. Cassie’s parents dismiss Custom Pets as a scam, attributing Mr. Willard’s charm to mere sales tactics. For a moment, it seems like Cassie’s pet shop adventure might end before it truly begins, a surprisingly grounded resolution.
But curiosity, and perhaps a touch of teenage rebellion, pulls Cassie back. This time, she’s drawn by agonizing cat yelps emanating from the forbidden back room. Willard’s dismissiveness and sharp reprimands when Cassie attempts to investigate solidify the red flags. It’s at this point Cassie vows never to return, her intuition finally screaming danger.
Fate, however, has other plans. David reappears, lamenting the accidental demise of his tarantula (a demise Cassie finds humorously disturbing, a questionable moral stance). He and his parents proceed to order a dog. As Cassie prepares to leave, Willard intercepts her, offering a peculiar pink liquid. In a moment of questionable judgment, Cassie accepts, succumbing to the shop’s sinister allure. The world fades to black.
Cassie awakens to a nightmare: Mr. Willard, a dog collar dangling before her eyes. The horrifying truth dawns – Cassie has been transformed, not into a customer, but into the merchandise. She is now a dog in his “pet shop of horrors,” destined to be sold. A chilling implication surfaces: all the pets in Custom Pets are former humans. The tarantula David “sat on”? Potentially a child. This revelation elevates the story from spooky to deeply disturbing.
Escape attempts prove futile. The cruel twist intensifies as Cassie learns her adopter is none other than David, her tormentor. Life with the Ferrante family is a descent into canine indignities. Cassie’s attempts to communicate her human consciousness are, naturally, misinterpreted as canine misbehavior. A chilling thought arises: given the shop’s nature, are there missing children reports linked to Custom Pets?
Surprisingly, David displays a strange tenderness towards his new dog, a flicker of unexpected kindness in the bully. However, David’s father is a volatile presence. His aggressive outburst, “Let me at that dog! I’ll make her shut up for good!”, hints at the potential source of David’s bullying behavior – a learned trait from a harsh parental figure.
Life as a dog is a series of unsettling sensory experiences. Fleas, the limited perspective, the constant misinterpretations – Cassie grapples with the indignities of her new form. At the park, they encounter Cuda, the sad-eyed dog from the pet shop, now with a rude owner. The fleeting connection with Cuda hints at a shared plight, a silent understanding between former humans trapped in animal bodies. Ironically, David, the bully, appears to be the most considerate pet owner in this macabre scenario.
David’s patience wears thin when Cassie refuses to fetch. His anger escalates, culminating in a near-kick, only to be interrupted by the convenient arrival of Suki. Cassie’s desperate attempts to connect with Suki are met with fear and incomprehension. “Suki Chen had been her best friend forever. And even she didn’t recognize Cassie. Even worse, Suki was afraid of her!” This realization underscores the isolating horror of Cassie’s transformation.
Days blur into a monotonous nightmare. The narrative briefly acknowledges the glaringly obvious: Cassie’s disappearance would undoubtedly trigger a missing person investigation. However, the focus remains tightly on Cassie’s canine ordeal.
David’s father’s character takes a further plunge into unpleasantness. His rant about “lazy” dogs and preference for hunting breeds sets the stage for a disturbing hunting trip. The introduction of shotguns elevates the tension to unbearable levels. Cassie’s terror is palpable as guns are fired, birds fall, and she’s ordered to retrieve them.
“She trembled as she stared down the gun barrel. Was he pointing it toward her on purpose? Would he actually shoot her if she didn’t get the birds?” This moment is intensely uncomfortable, pushing the boundaries of children’s horror into genuinely disturbing territory, validating the content warning. Cassie retrieves the bird but refuses to participate further, drawing a line at becoming complicit in killing for sport. Betsy Haynes’ stance on hunting is clear, and Cassie’s defiance, while brave, further endangers her. Punishment follows swiftly: banishment to the basement.
The news report overheard the next day confirms the missing person investigation, Cassie identified by name. Yet, her attempts to communicate her identity to the Ferrantes remain tragically futile. In a misguided attempt to gain their attention and understanding, Cassie destroys David’s prized baseball shoes and other possessions. Predictably, this backfires spectacularly. The consequence? Obedience school.
Obedience school, run by the ironically named “Bruiser,” is another layer of humiliation and mistreatment. Cassie, initially resolving to comply, encounters Cuda again, disrupting the training. Bruiser’s harsh collar tugging leads to Cassie biting him in self-defense, resulting in expulsion. David, to his credit, recognizes the injustice, but his father, predictably, sees it as the final straw. Cassie is being returned to Custom Pets.
David’s quiet disappointment and a surprising rush of affection from Cassie towards him offer a brief moment of unexpected warmth. “Maybe he isn’t a total jerk after all, she thought.” This fleeting connection makes the subsequent events even more poignant.
In a desperate act, Cassie spells out “Help! Not Dog! Girl!” in mud. It’s a heartbreakingly simple plea, ignored by the oblivious adults. Forced to sleep outside, Cassie’s escape attempt by digging under the fence fails. Her fate is sealed: return to the pet shop of horrors.
In the car, David expresses he’ll miss Cassie, and she reciprocates the sentiment. This bittersweet farewell amplifies the tragedy as Cassie is delivered back into Mr. Willard’s clutches. The back room, previously shrouded in mystery, now looms as a chamber of horrors. “Since nobody wants you…I’m going to have to put you to sleep.” The euphemism is chillingly clear.
“Was this what had caused that cat’s terrible wailing? Cassie wondered.” The realization dawns: the agonizing cries were not mere discomfort, but the sounds of human children being euthanized, transformed, and discarded. Bone Chillers takes an unexpectedly dark turn.
Mr. Willard prepares the syringe. Escape becomes Cassie’s only instinct. In the ensuing struggle, Willard, described as “a big boi,” falls, momentarily incapacitated. Cassie seizes the syringe and hides it, a small victory in a desperate situation. However, Willard recovers, producing another needle.
Then, inexplicably, Willard leaves, promising to return with “help.” A bizarrely convenient plot contrivance. Cassie, trapped and desperate, breaks a bottle of pink liquid – the same pink liquid that initiated her transformation. With nothing to lose, she drinks it.
And just like that, the curse is reversed. The pink liquid is both the agent of transformation and the antidote. Convenient? Yes. But in the heightened reality of children’s horror, it serves its purpose. Cassie is human again. Her immediate concern? “Oh no! What did he do with my clothes?” A touch of levity amidst the horror, though the implications are…uncomfortable.
Clothes recovered, Cassie flees as Willard returns. Her return home is met with unbelievable parental acceptance of an amnesia excuse. The narrative glosses over the gaping plot holes, prioritizing a swift resolution. However, a final twist awaits. Her parents, in her absence, have acquired a pet: a Pekinese. The dog’s familiar behavior and appearance trigger a horrifying realization. “Suki?!”
The ending twist, while somewhat predictable, is effectively executed, adding a final chilling layer to the pet shop of horrors narrative. Suki, too, has fallen victim to Custom Pets, a truly bleak conclusion.
Final Thoughts:
Little Pet Shop of Horrors is a surprisingly effective and unsettling entry in the Bone Chillers series. The core concept, while outlandish, is mined for maximum creepy potential. The hunting scene and the threat of euthanasia inject genuine danger into what could have been a purely silly premise. Mr. Willard emerges as a genuinely menacing villain, capitalizing on the inherent vulnerability of children. Cassie, despite occasional lapses in judgment, is a relatable protagonist. The exploration of David’s character, hinting at a more nuanced individual beneath the bully facade, adds an unexpected layer of depth.
However, the repetitive cycle of Cassie’s canine misinterpretations and the uncomfortable animal abuse threats are notable drawbacks. While some darker elements enhance the horror, certain scenes push the boundaries of appropriate content for the target audience.
Comparisons to Goosebumps’ “The Barking Ghost” are inevitable, but Little Pet Shop of Horrors arguably executes the “kid turns into a dog” trope with greater narrative purpose and a more sinister underlying mechanism. For a 90s children’s horror book, it delivers a memorable, if occasionally disturbing, reading experience.
Despite its flaws and unsettling content, Little Pet Shop of Horrors earns a solid recommendation for fans of 90s children’s horror seeking something a bit darker and more thought-provoking than the usual fare. Just be prepared for some genuinely uncomfortable moments within this pet shop of horrors.
Rating: Good
(Side note: The book blurb misrepresents a key plot point, claiming Cassie stays overnight at the pet shop before the transformation, which is inaccurate. And yes, a TV episode adaptation of this would be…something.)
Next up, we conclude this exploration of 90s horror with a look at Shivers. Stay tuned for more spine-tingling reviews!
