Top 10 CREEPIEST Dogman Videos EVER 2025

Nobody agrees on where the video came from.

That’s part of why it works.

It appears and disappears in cycles—reuploaded, cropped, re-titled, sometimes mirrored as if someone wanted to confuse reverse searches. The clip is short. The metadata is gone. The original account, if it ever existed, is either deleted or buried beneath a dozen imitation channels that post nothing but night-forest dread and ominous music.

But the footage has one feature that keeps dragging people back: for a handful of frames—just a handful—you get a view that’s almost too clear to be comfortable.

A large upright figure.

A head that’s unmistakably canine.

And a growl that doesn’t sound like any animal you want to meet alone.

The story attached to it is always the same in broad strokes. A man hiking at night. A foreign country. No names, no landmarks, no reliable details. That vagueness should kill the tale.

Instead, it makes it harder to shake—because the mind fills in what the clip refuses to provide.

1) The Walk That Wasn’t Supposed to Happen

According to the narrator who first popularized it, the man had been hiking late—late enough that the woods were no longer “scenic,” only present. The kind of darkness where your flashlight doesn’t reveal the world so much as carve out a narrow tunnel of permission: you may see this strip of path and nothing else.

He was alone. No group chatter behind him, no other headlamps bobbing in the distance. Just his own breathing and the soft crush of leaves under his boots.

Then he heard it.

A sound that didn’t belong to the usual night soundtrack.

Not the scattered rustle of small animals. Not the distant bark of a fox. Not even the steady, irritated huff a deer makes when it’s about to bolt.

This was lower. Rougher. A sustained vibration with texture—like something with a big chest and a big throat was testing the air.

A growl.

People who fake videos always make the mistake of leaning too hard into drama: a roar at the perfect moment, a scream on cue. But the sound in this clip—if you take it at face value—doesn’t feel timed for the camera. It feels like the camera wandered into it.

And that’s the first hook. The first whisper in your mind that says:

This might not be meant for you.

The man stops. The light trembles. You can hear him shift his weight, the small nervous movements of somebody trying to decide whether curiosity is worth it.

It isn’t. It never is.

But he goes closer anyway.

2) “Stop.”

The first clear word in the audio is a simple one.

“Stop.”

It’s not shouted. It’s not heroic. It sounds like a man realizing he has miscalculated his own safety, and trying to regain control with language.

The camera advances, the beam skimming across brush and tree trunks. The darkness beyond the beam looks thick enough to touch.

And then the figure is there.

Not bursting out. Not charging. Already waiting, as if it had been standing in that patch of shadow long before the man arrived and only now allowed itself to be seen.

At first it’s just a shape: tall, broad, upright.

Then the head catches the light and the brain does what it always does when confronted with an impossible silhouette—it tries to break it into familiar categories:

a person wearing a mask
a large dog standing oddly
an animal on a slope creating an illusion
a prank, a costume, a trick of distance

But the longer the beam holds, the more those explanations slip.

The head is not “sort of dog-like.” It is dog—an elongated snout, a heavy upper jaw, the suggestion of teeth when the mouth opens. The ears appear pointed, set high. The fur is dark—gray-black—so dense it eats detail except where the flashlight glances across it.

And the body beneath that head doesn’t match any natural dog shape. It’s too vertical. The torso is thick. The shoulders are high and heavy. The arms—if you can call them that—hang with a weight that looks primate-like, not canine.

A dog’s head on something that moves like a big man.

A wolf-shaped face with the posture of a threat that understands posture.

The creature growls again, and the sound is closer now, like the night itself has leaned forward.

3) The Mistake People Always Make in Stories Like This

He keeps approaching.

You can hear it in the audio—the nervous little half-steps, the way he tries to keep his breathing quiet. He moves like someone who thinks distance equals safety, that a few more feet will turn the unknown into the explainable.

The thing stays still.

That stillness reads as confidence.

Predators don’t always rush. Sometimes they hold position and let you ruin yourself.

The clip gives you a brief, awful gift: enough proximity to notice the proportions.

The head seems too large to belong to a person in a cheap costume. The neck area looks thick, almost buried in fur. The upper body appears powerful in a way that isn’t bodybuilder symmetry, but working-animal strength—muscle laid down by survival, not a gym.

If it’s a suit, it’s a very good one.

If it’s not a suit, then the world is stranger than it should be.

And that’s exactly where the footage wants you: balanced on the fence, leaning forward, unable to decide which side is worse.

Then the creature shifts.

Not much. A subtle loading of weight, like a sprinter settling into the starting blocks.

That tiny movement is what makes the man’s fear spike—because it reads as intention.

The growl changes. It’s sharper.

A warning that isn’t for the camera.

It’s for him.

4) The Lunge

It happens fast. Faster than the mind can narrate.

One second the phone is aimed at the figure. The next, the image jolts violently and the frame becomes chaos: blurred fur, a sudden impact, the flashlight beam whipping across branches.

The phone hits the ground.

Sound becomes the main evidence now: the scrape of leaves, a stifled breath, a panicked scramble.

He grabs the phone again. The camera catches the forest at odd angles—sky, trees, darkness—like a dropped eye trying to reorient.

And then he runs.

Not a controlled retreat.

A full, desperate bolt—the kind of running that turns the woods into a maze of hazards. You hear branches slap him. You hear his breathing tear in and out. You hear the frantic footfalls that say one thing plainly:

He believes he is being hunted.

The clip ends before you get closure.

Which is, of course, why it gets reposted endlessly. Endings are where skepticism lives. The lack of one lets the mystery keep breathing.

5) The Second Layer: The Photos That “Surface” Years Later

If the footage was the spark, the photos are the accelerant.

People claim there are old images—dated 2009—that only became widely discussed much later, supposedly highlighted in November 2025. The set is often labeled with a name built for folklore:

“The Black Walker of Smuggler’s Notch.”

The caption attached to these images is always written like a curse:

In the frozen silence of Smuggler’s Notch, something walked that winter… heavy, black, and not meant for human eyes.

Four photos, they say. Each one shows the same figure farther along its path, like a sequence—proof of movement, proof of life.

The figure appears hunched, the legs disturbingly human-like in shape and stride, the upper body broad and animal-heavy. The head reads canine. In one photo, the arms are hard to see, making it look almost wrong—like a torso designed without limbs—though that could be angle, shadow, or a deliberate framing choice.

The photos are “too good,” critics say. Too well composed. Too convenient.

Believers say the opposite: that they’re frightening precisely because they look like something nobody would bother to fake so carefully for so long without cashing in.

The truth is, photos like that function the same way the found footage does: they don’t prove. They suggest. And suggestion is the oxygen of cryptid lore.

6) Why Vermont, of All Places?

Vermont isn’t the first place most people point to for dogman stories, which becomes part of the myth’s appeal. The region already carries a reputation for high-strangeness—Bennington Triangle talk, Glastenbury Mountain unease, stories of disappearances and odd figures in the woods.

Older folklore doesn’t always say “dogman.” It says spirits, beast-forms, wolf-things that walk wrong. It says hunters seeing something upright where upright doesn’t belong.

Modern labels change. Shapes in the dark don’t.

And that’s the unsettling thread connecting all these accounts: the repeated description of something bipedal, canine-headed, and watchful, as if it isn’t just an animal, but an animal with the wrong kind of awareness.

7) The Woman With the Camera (And the Smile)

Another clip circulates with a timestamp everyone quotes: November 5th, 2025.

A woman is filming near her home, late at night, claiming her land has a history of strange occurrences—sounds, shadows, apparitions. It has the familiar setup of a hundred paranormal videos: shaky light, nervous commentary, darkness doing most of the work.

She’s packing up to leave when she catches a reflective flash in the distance—eye shine.

She turns the camera back and films a tall figure standing upright.

Still.

Too still.

It doesn’t approach. It doesn’t answer when she calls out. It simply holds position, and the longer she films, the more her voice loses confidence.

At one point she says something that turned that clip into a favorite among dogman enthusiasts:

“It’s got ears, dude.”

If you freeze frames, you can make out pointed shapes near the top of the head. Ears—or branches, depending on what you want to see.

Then there’s the detail that divides people:

Some viewers insist it looks like the figure is grinning.

A trick of light? A pareidolia effect? Or something worse—an expression that shouldn’t sit on a canine face the way it seems to.

She stops recording, gets into her truck, and leaves.

The clip ends.

No closure, again.

Just the feeling that the camera was allowed to see exactly as much as the thing wanted it to see.

8) The “Evidence” That Always Appears Next

Once you’re in the dogman corner of the internet, the pattern repeats:

A “remarkably clear” trail cam photo of a black canine-headed figure running through a clearing
A night-vision clip where something lifts its head, exposing glowing eyes and teeth
A blurry backyard video in Brazil where a dark shape moves between trees with unnatural speed
A photo of a skull on a log, canine-like but wrong in proportion

Each piece is presented as the clearest yet, and each piece is immediately challenged:

AI-generated
edited
costume
misidentified animal
staged for clicks

The debate becomes part of the entertainment. Proof becomes secondary to atmosphere.

And atmosphere is what all these clips share: the sense of being watched by something that can choose not to be seen.

9) The Carcass Argument (Where Fear Tries to Sound Scientific)

Eventually someone always brings up “remains”—a carcass photo with patches of fur and exposed skin, described in ominous language. The commentary reads like forensic analysis, pointing to long digits, mane-like fur around the shoulders, and a hind leg stance that supposedly suggests speed beyond anything natural.

Skeptics counter with the simplest explanation: mange, decomposition, lighting, perspective.

And that’s the uncomfortable truth about most of this material: there is always a mundane explanation available—just not always a satisfying one.

Because satisfaction isn’t what people are chasing.

They’re chasing the moment the world feels thin.

10) What the Found Footage Really Shows (Whether It’s Real or Not)

If you strip away the labels—dogman, cryptid, werewolf, black walker—what remains is a very old story structure:

A person enters the woods in darkness
They hear something they can’t place
They move closer when they should move away
They see a shape that breaks the normal rules
The shape reacts with sudden force
The clip ends before certainty arrives

That structure survives because it matches a human truth: the forest at night is a place where perception fails easily, where fear fills gaps, and where even a real animal can feel supernatural if you meet it under the wrong conditions.

But the other reason it survives is more troubling:

Because sometimes, when you watch a clip like that, you don’t feel entertained.

You feel warned.

And the warning is simple.

Not “dogmen exist.”

Not “Bigfoot is real.”

Just this:

If something in the woods wanted you gone, you would not get a perfect video.

You would get a few seconds of clarity—just enough to haunt you—followed by running, breath, darkness, and the sound of your own survival.