Since it's that time of year for spooks and goblins, and this is a place where we share our interest in things gothic, and we have witches and spectres scooting across our screen, I thought I'd share an experience I had back in August, hoping it's not too off-topic.
I was asked by some friends to housesit whilst they took a much needed vacation out west for two weeks. My duties would also include doggie-sitting their pooch, which happens to be a pit-bull terrier. Now, despite the reputation of these canines, he's a gentle little beast, actually shy, who is fearful of new people and will hide behind furniture. I got him to welcome me into his heart the first times I went over to my friends' house by bribing him with a milk-bone. After that, he would crawl into my lap and lick my face non-stop. It's rather something having a pit-bull with that huge mawl with all those pounds-per-square-inch pressure lapping away at you.
For the two weeks I would be there, I would have the run of the place (including the use of a wonderful jacuzzi). Although the house is not old (built in the sixties), it's large and spacious, spread out in wings, located in a wooded urban section of the town where it's situated. It was not uncommon to have deer meander through the front and back yards. The day my friends were leaving, one of them, as he carried luggage into their vehicle, said to me: "You do know about our ghost, don't you?" I thought he was just joshing, but he insisted that he was quite serious. Now, although I love the whole thing of ghoulies and ghosties and log-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night (why else would I love DS?), I'm generally a skeptic and unbeliever. I didn't take to heart what he said.
So, did anything happen while I was there? Three things come to mind.
The first had to do with the dog. It would happen - usually at night - that I would be in the TV family room, the pit-bull curled up on the couch next to me, when he would suddenly sit up, his ears at attention, staring at a wall, corner or doorway as if something were there. Sometimes he would remain there; other times he would jump off and cautiously (acting as he does when he is before a stranger) move closer to whatever caught his attention, and then begin the low growl which would turn into a bark. And then he'd take a couple steps backwards, never averting his eyes, and finally calm down, as if whatever he saw - but obviously invisible to me - left, taking one last look and returning to his position next to me on the couch.
The second happened while I was bathing (shades of Psycho here). The dog was curled up on the bathmat - he rarely left my side when I was in the house. Then, from somewhere seemingly inside the house, came a long, drawn-out moan that turned into a mournful sigh, echoing throughout. Its source seemed to be from the first floor, but very obviously within the house.
And then there was the third. At night, in the guest bedroom, the pit-bull would sleep with me, crawling under the covers, going way down to my feet, curling himself around them. Throughout the entire night he never moved, and I wondered how he, especially a dog of that size, could breathe, but there he remained. One night, I was sound asleep and something woke me, a sound. When the fog cleared from my mind I was able to determine what it was. Someone was walking back and forth over the hardwood floor in my room. At first I though it was the dog (he's very muscular and heavy), but then I realized that: a) he was still under the covers, curled around my feet, and b) the sound was definitely human, not the click-click-click of dog toenails on hardwood. The footsteps continued their promenade around the room and then exited, me hearing a few creaks of the top steps of the staircase which then abruptly stopped.
So there you have it, your Halloween treat. Was I scared at any time, even when experiencing that "phenomena?" No. First, like I said, I'm a skeptic, so I just figure that there is a rational explanation for it all. Second, when you have a pit-bull at your side every minute, even a skittish one, you have a tendency of feeling secure. I'm sure, if pressed, it could've turned any, ol' spook into lunch.
Boo!
Gerard
