Duke

Today I think I’ll tell you about one of my dogs.

Duke was a goofy dog. He was half American Eskimo and half German shepherd. Quite a combo I know. He was the only one of the litter to resemble a shepherd. All the others looked like snowball but in various colors.

Duke was a strong and obnoxious dog. He jumped the fence on a regular basis. A fence that was five foot tall! So my dad fashioned this thing, a tie out of sorts. He took a chain and attached it to a truck tire. This would allow Duke the freedom to roam the yard but made it impossible for him to escape the yard—we thought.

One day I came home from school and Duke was gone. I was devastated. I even accused my dad of getting rid of him. My dad has NEVER lied to me so when he said he didn’t, he didn’t. Duke showed up back home two days later—still dragging his tire.

We couldn’t think of what else to do but for over a week Duke didn’t take off. We thought he was back for good. He wasn’t.

Once more I came home and Duke was gone. I waited and waited but he never came home. One night I was lying in bed and I heard him beneath my window barking to beat the band. I jumped up and ran outside. Duke wasn’t there.

I was so sad. My dog was gone. I still had his mother and she was a love bug but Duke was something special to me.

I was out with my boyfriend and we were driving home. There is a dead end of sorts—used to be anyway. The recent construction took it away. Anyway, we were sitting there and I saw Duke in the headlights. I jumped out of the car and rushed to him. He wagged his tail, he barked and then he was gone. Not like ran off gone. Like suddenly wasn’t there gone.

It was strange and it gave me the chills but I also had this feeling of comfort. He had come to tell me goodbye.

Many of my strange moments involve different pets I’ve had over the years and I’ll tell you about them at different intervals.

George

The house my parents live in has a ghost. We all know it. We all accept it. Even my parents finally accept it.

George loves to play pranks. He gets a kick out of it. As his pranks are completely harmless, well, we don’t mind.

When I was a kid my parents—okay my dad—had a pool table. It was so cool to be able to head downstairs once homework was done (and at times even when it wasn’t) to practice my game. One evening I was down playing. I had my transistor radio (does that tell you how old I am? LOL) sitting against the back wall while I hit a few.

Mom called down to tell me it was dinnertime. I turned off my radio, laid my stick on the table and I went upstairs. After supper, I went back down. As I walked down the stairs, I heard the radio playing. Now, I KNOW I turned it off. When I reached the bottom of the steps I found, not only was my radio on but it was no longer on the table at the far wall. It was on the floor near the steps.

I hesitated in my steps. I was still getting used to George and I have to admit I was more than a little scared. I grabbed my radio, turned and ran back up the steps and shut the door. It was quite a while before I’d go back down to the basement. The times I had to I ran as fast as I could.

Now when I go over. I usually make sure to say hello and goodbye to George. He seems to like it.

Great Granny Wynn

As you all know by now, my favorite holiday is Halloween. This month is for ghosts and ghouls, thrills and chills. Most people have had events that made them uneasy or slightly freaked out. Myself, I’ve had many. So I decided that I would share each one with you.

(Tomorrow is my day to post on The Writer’s Vineyard so one of my freaky moments is listed there. Check it out: http://thewritersvineyard.com)

My Granny Wynn was a cool woman. She lived in this great old house that was behind the building where her and grandpa had their grocer. I barely remember the store except for the fact that she always gave me a piece of Green Apple bubble gum. (My favorite gum of all time)

I was about 13 at the time the following events occurred.

I had this recurring dream that didn’t make any sense. In my dreams I was running, searching for something. Each night would bring me closer to whatever it was I was in search of. Each night something would stop me from reaching the goal.

One night it was a wall of thorns that blocked my path.
The following night I made it past the wall of thorns only to encounter another obstacle. Then, after this went on for a week I had reached a point where I was almost at the end of my nocturnal journey.

I had overcome the walls and stones, the river and muck only to be grabbed by winged monkeys al a Wizard of Oz.

The next night I past all points and even dodged the monkeys only to fall through a hole in the ground and land in a chair. Merlin was sitting there calmly sipping his tea. He welcomed me and passed me an ornately carved box.

He told me that when I opened the box I would see a picture of a person I dearly loved. When I saw their face they would die so I wasn’t to open it until I was ready. I woke up in a cold sweat. I was afraid to go to sleep after that because each night had led me closer to the final dream.

But I eventually did sleep. I went through all the trials and landed back in Merlin’s house. He pushed the box toward me and asked me if I was ready. I wasn’t sure. He nodded and said it was time.

I opened the box and there inside was a picture of my granny Wynn. I sat up in bed crying as hard as I’ve ever cried before. Just shortly after, the phone rang. It was my grandmother (her daughter) calling to tell us that Granny Wynn had died.

For several years, I thought it was my fault Granny died. If I hadn’t opened that box I wouldn’t have seen her picture and she wouldn’t have died. Of course, as I got older, I realized how silly that was of me to feel that way.