Coach, We Got Ghosts.

I'm not sure where I came across this little fact, but I've heard in the past that dogs and babies sometimes see ghosts.

I'm fairly certain Lucy is one of those dogs.

Here is Lucy enjoying the beach, seemingly ghost-less.

When Lucy was a baby, she would all of a sudden stop and stand very still, hunting dog style. Then she would move her head very quickly all around the room and just lunge at things. The first time I witnessed this, I about had a heart attack, thinking she was seeing something I couldn't. Probably the spirit of Peter Pan.

Turns out, she likes to chase bugs. She still does this, but now she can kill them with a swing of her paw.

The hand crushing here is just excruciating. 

The next scary habit didn't start up until a few months ago. She would sit on our couch, in her crouched-hunting-dog-squat-thing and very eerily stare out the window, up to the corner of the roof. And she would make quick, short movements, inching closer and closer until she was next to the window, begging to be let out. When I would look, I never saw anything. This was frightening.

Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match.

I think it's safe to note that a fear of mine would be to catch Lucy looking at something in this way and turn around to find an ax murder glaring and eating a McRib sandwich with BBQ sauce all over his face.

Regardless, this window bit went on for awhile in it's creepy way. Turns out, we have rats living on our roof that like to crawl down the patio fence and look for things. Instead of being really grossed out about this, I picture one of the rats trying to secretly get into the kitchen to steal spices because it's obviously a chef rat.

So far, so good on the ghost thing.

Until today.

I was awakened at 6 am to Lucy's scream howl. Her scream howl means there is either a cat or a person she wants to find. I found her in the downstairs music room, howling incessantly at the sliding glass door. It's important to note this door is covered by curtains.

When I find her, I am absolutely terrified to look. I instantly picture myself in a horror film as the first character who dies. (Let's be honest, I would be the girl that runs upstairs.) So, I, slowly and as silently as possible, creep my way to Lucy. After four years of getting there, I cautiously open the curtains, Lucy growls a bit, but is immediately uninterested and saunters upstairs and back to bed.

I am left, practically frozen in the music room thinking, "we either have ghosts or someone was trying to break into the house." So, I've made an executive decision.

Coach, we got ghosts.

Saving Silverman l "Coach, we got ghosts."

Thanks for sounding' down.