I can’t stop thinking about what woke me last night and am hoping that, if I get it down in words, I’ll be able to sleep tonight.
I’m not sure what it was that first woke me at 3:35am but, having done so, I heard what I can best describe as something “skipping oddly” down the carpeted hallway, past the bedroom door, and toward the living room. I didn’t immediately think “dog” because the cadence was wrong and I can’t usually hear our dogs (Oz and Luna) walking at night unless they shake their heads and the tags on their collars rattle. This definitely was not a dog walking, but it also didn’t sound like a dog running and , because I’m no fool, my next thought was “definitely a goblin.”
At this point I was wide awake.
Anyway, I heard this galumphing down the hallway and then the frenzied scrabble of claws on tile and, because I live in a world that contains (as far as I know) no actual goblins, I thought “oh damn…is Oz having another seizure?”
I got up and headed down the hallway but, at this point, there was no sound at all which I guessed was not outside the possibilities for a seizure. I got to the end of the hallway and there was nothing by the tiled front entry where it seemed most likely I heard the scrabbling of claws. Clearly, whatever was cavorting down the hallway had made a quick turn in the entryway to go down to the basement and what I heard was the sound of claws on tile making a quick corner. What kind of claws? I had no fucking idea! One claw sounds like an other in my limited experience with claws.
Against my better judgement I turned left around the banister and peered down the stairs into to murk of THE BASEMENT. A basement I’d become comfortable with over the years and even come to think of more as the downstairs than THE BASEMENT. But here we are, 3:49am, in the dark, and I was trying to decide if I was actually going down into THE BASEMENT.
It was too hard to see the bottom of the stairs so I took one step down, then another. It was at this point that I was able to dimly make out a shape at the bottom of the stairs; a dark shape. A dark shape too small to be an actual monster but I was not yet willing to discount completely that it could be a goblin. It was definitely too small to be Oz so, hoping against hope, I squeaked out “Luna?”
The shape shifted slightly but enough to finally resolve into the familiar shape of the smaller of our dogs.
She seemed to be on her belly, paws in front, alert. Alert and looking up at me on the steps. I say again, “Luna? C’mon Luna.” The black shape (now clearly Luna) got up and started up the stairs, her tail tucked a bit as if she was caught doing something she oughtn’t. I patted her as much to reassure myself of her solidity as to let her know all was well. Was all well? How the hell should I know? But if you can’t lie to your dogs, who can you lie to?
Heading back down the hallway to bed Luna followed as if everything was completely normal and curled up next to me in bed. Just when I started to try and make myself think everything was fine, Julie asked “What is it, the witching hour?”
After a brief discussion of what it was not and coming to no conclusion at all about what it was, she said “So, I guess we just go to sleep now?”
“I’m not exactly sure how, but it’s worth a shot,” was my weak reply.
I had to listen to my audiobook for a while before I could sleep and couldn’t help but notice that Luna didn’t actually sleep the entire time she stayed curled next to me. She looked like she was sleeping, but here eyes remained open. Eventually, as I began to doze a bit, I was aware of her getting up and leaving the room. Her footsteps sounded normal so I let her go and just lay there staring up into the darkness and listening to my story until I finally fell asleep.
We are all still here this morning.