I Told You So!

Before I start this, I should point out that Sheeba has decided that she wants nothing to do with the yard. We have to beg her to go out anymore, and literally push her out the door. More often than not, someone will walk her when she has to relieve herself, rather than fight with her. I thought for sure I had spoiled her rotten. Becki though told me how she and Chris pulled up one day and Sheeba was sitting in a lawn chair, and refused to move. Becki said she was terrified, and it wasn't until Becki went in the yard for her, that she came out.
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So as Paul Harvey would say, "And now for the rest of the story."
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We had a big weekend. I posted that other photo because I couldn't figure out how to email it to someone, and I couldn't find it in Kodak. Which relates to what I did on Friday morning.
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Our library and City, working in conjunction with each other (It's a joke if you are familiar with our town), are putting together a Halloween program with one of Chicago's big ghost hunters.
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A few weeks back the paper advertised for volunteers who live in haunted homes to allow a camera crew to film there. Well I volunteered to let them sit outside my home and talk. Most of my ghost stories have to do with what happens outside my home. Along with the ghost hunter, we had two 'sensitives'. I guess that's the new word for 'medium.'
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On the subject of mediums, let me say this. Becki has told me a lot over the years, all of which I've taken with a grain of salt. This stuff is hard to believe, especially when it's your little girl who is blowing your mind away. I love to tell a good ghost story, and I include a lot of what Becki tells me, but it's hard not to be skeptic.
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Anyway, we went to two other houses before coming to ours. At the first, the lady told of how her husband played the piano shortly after his death so her daughter would know he was okay. She told of seeing people on the stairwell, and movement in other places. The sensitives explained what they saw, which pretty well matched up with what the lady saw.
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Anyway, we moved on to the second house. This one was on the same street I live on, but a block down. Jen joined me just as we pulled up at the other house. She wanted to tell her stories, but her mother didn't want to let a camera crew in. So Jen walked Superbaby over in his stroller. As we're coming up to the house, she tells me, "Mom, this street isn't right." I kind of blew her off, thinking she's playing games with me. A few minutes later we came across one of the sensitives. She was leaning against a tree. She starts telling us that when she got out of the car, her feet began to come out from under her. She says, "You see there's no birds or squirrels on this street? There's something wrong with this whole block." I almost lost it. First because of what Jen said, and then because my stories have more to do with what happens outside than what happens inside. (There's enough going on inside my house that I would have called anyway. Outside is worse.) I never quite got the story about what's happening inside the second house before we moved on. I had a lot to concentrate on.
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Anyway, we start moving down the street towards our house when Becki and Chris caught up. Becki said she ran to the train from school because she was afraid of missing the interview. Chris picked her up from the train station and hurried her home. I introduced the newcomers around as we moved.
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Anyway, on to our house. Sensitive # 1 asked if she could see the dog. Well, Sheeba is in the house, barking her fool head off. I went in and put her leach on her and brought her out. The Sensitive #1 took her for a walk. Now at the other two houses Sensitive #2 wandered around, in and out of the houses and around the property, as did Sensitive #1, although #1 spent time with any dogs living in the homes. The pair operated separately, and away from the home owner and others. I mean they didn't just disappear, but as we're talking in the living room, or on the porch, we could see either of these ladies, wandering the yard, or taking the stairs inside. At my house, Sensitive #2 steps out of the car and a few steps away from it. Then she turns around and got back in the car. Okay, she must be tired.
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So we sit down in chair in front of house. As the camera man is setting up for this interview, J.J. walks out of the bushes and rubbed against his leg. Now just imagine. After all of these ghost stories, these sensitives (two very nice ladies, by the way) telling us what they feel and see, and suddenly this guy is greeted by a black cat. He freaked! Sorry it happened, but it was funny.
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We sat down for the interview. I don't remember who decided that Jen and Becki should participate, but I'm glad they did. We told our stories, each one adding our own prospective. About the lady in the hallway, about Fred in the car and the guy peeking in our window at night. Even about Elbows, and the shadow that walks between Lawrence and Mel's sidewalk. And how many times Becki has done it to me where we're walking or driving, and she tells me, "Quick, Mom, take a picture." Sure enough, there's a huge orb somewhere. As I said, I never want to believe her, but just as I think she can't prove it to me again, she does. Anyway, she's telling about her the photos she took, like the one below, or the one on the right side panel of this blog. Someone asks her what she sees and how often. She tells him, once or twice a week she comes across something unusual. Then she says, "There's something wrong with the yard. I hate it. And the garage is worse. The dog hates it, too."
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We finish up with another story, when the director waves Sensitive #1 forward. She's still has my dog in tow. Now my dog is kind of calm. Kind of. Of all the years I've had her, she's never calm around new people. Anyway, Sensitive #1 tells the narrator that the dog hates the yard, and worse yet the garage. That I need to comfort the dog and let her know that it will be all right. And it will, too. Then she tells me that I need to lay salt around the perimeter of the yard and to bless the yard with holy water. Asked why, she said, "I see hooded figures in the yard."
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HUH?
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The narrator asked her, "You mean KKK or something else?"
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She said, "Oh, definitely ceremonial. The yard is bad. The garage is worse."
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I'm having difficulty catching my breath, and my daughter is standing there with her arms crossed. "I told you so." I don't know which is worse knowing. That my yard is haunted with something evil, or that my daughter has been watching this for the past 18 years. Damn! My poor heart!
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So, yard is salted, priest is coming, dog is regularly doing her business in the yard and not afraid to be there. But daughter is still saying, "I told you so!"