I’m fairly certain there are ghosts or spirits of some kind in my house. Five generations of the same family lived there before I did, and I suspect one or two of them may have stayed behind to keep an eye on it. The doorbell rang itself once, which is impossible because it is frozen with rust. And on a few occasions I have thought I heard someone saying my name.
Fine, whatever.
I’m not a scaredy-cat. There’s plenty of room in the house for all of us. Last night I was in bed and I felt a weight beside me, along my back, like someone else was on the bed. Figuring it was a cat, I reached out my hand to pet said cat. Except there’s no cat there. Hmmmm. I rolled over and don’t see a cat anywhere on the bed. Double hmmmm. Not wanting to get wigged out right away, I say to myself “whoever it was probably just jumped down.” But then it occurred to me that I didn’t hear the sound of a cat jumping down, nor did I ever hear the tell-tale crinkling of the down comforter -- even before or when I felt the weight beside me. Triple hmmmm. Still not enough to really freak me out.
Then, then, then, as I’m closing my eyes again, I hear Romeo beside the bed. He starts hissing like I have never heard a cat hiss before (and this is a cat who loves everything/everyone…I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard him hiss at all in the 11 years I’ve had him). Hsssssss hsssssss hssssss hsssssss. I can hear the bells on Frasier’s and Birdie’s collars elsewhere in the house, so I know he’s not hissing at them. Annie’s safe and secure in her room, so I know he’s not hissing at her. Then I feel the weight again. On the other side of me this time. Just like someone is sitting on the bed next to me. I open my eyes to look and there is nothing there. No cat, no nothing. No crinkle of the comforter. And Romeo is staring right at the “weight,” hissing for everything he is worth.
Seriously, I don’t mind if there are ghosts in my house. I just prefer that they not snuggle up next to me on a cold night. Yikes.
