Fur In The Paint

Preface
This story is a very mild sort. (I feel a little bad for not giving you one of my more scary happenings, but I don’t want to freak anybody out too much. I should say our house was in general, very mild. Nothing like any of the movies out there. Mostly doors opening and closing, furniture moving, footsteps, lights, that sort of thing. Mostly.

So gather round. Get your popcorn and Halloween candy for snacking. Shut off the lights and just bask in the soft glow of your monitor.

Anyone got to go to the bathroom? Do it now. . . We’ll wait.

Also my dog Brutus is part of the story. Brutus was my boy. He passed away several years ago from a rare tooth cancer that despite several surgeries, the last one being at the Veterinary Labs in Ames we eventually had to euthanize him for.

He was a very special dog to me, who I miss even still. He was an extremely well trained yellow lab who would obey commands from great distances away. He always traveled with me because I knew he had my back. He proved this once by pinning some guy to a tree, who had been watching me. I found out later he was just released from prison. But that’s another story.

The Story
So I was staying with my mom because my father was in the hospital. This was something that happened several times a year as my dad was in poor health much of his life. I came without Mike but had brought Brutus along.

Anyway, we were sleeping upstairs in the guest bedroom (me and Brutus) which is at the top of the stairway. (There is no force on this earth that would get me to sleep in my own childhood bedroom, except maybe if the only alternative was my brother’s room. But once again, that’s another story.)

It was very late and I was awake because I never feel all that comfortable in that house. Brutus was in bed with me, on his back sound asleep and snoring.

I heard the stairs creaking like someone was coming up them. The house is over 100 years old and does creak and groan a lot. However, footsteps sound very different from those kinds of noises. The door was shut so I couldn’t see anything. I tensed and told myself the old house was just settling.

There was a soft scratching at the door. Very subtle. I strained to hear it and wondered if I imagined it. It happened again.

Scritch scratch. Brutus woke up and rolled over and looked at the door.

Scritch scratch. Brutus began growling low and deep.

Scritch scratch. He flung himself off the bed and shoved his nose under the door crack snuffling and growling. His hackles were on end all the way down to his tail and he starts roaring and barking madly. He’s snarling and snapping along the bottom trying to get through to the other side.

I’m totally freaking and trying to quiet the dog because it’s the middle of the night and mom’s stressed because dad’s in the hospital, so she really needs her rest. But he was going crazy and wouldn’t be quieted.

Brutus starts scratching at the door. I was worried he would tear up the carpet, so I opened the door. He rushed through barking and snarling. Down the stairs into the dining room, through the kitchen until he hit the laundry room door which was closed.

He continued to bark and growl and snuffle along the bottom of the door a bit. But I was able to calm him some. Mom woke up (of course.) And we talked about what had happened. Brutus and I spent the remainder of the night downstairs. Actually we spent the remainder of the visit sleeping downstairs. You know I don’t think Brutus ever really liked visiting the folks after that. He was always just a little out of sorts there.

That’s it. Nothing else to say about it. We didn’t see anything, though we rarely do. Just a lot of sounds and occasionally . . . something else.

Want Another One?
Again this is a very mild story with the same players, same place.

Me, Mike and Brutus were up in the guest bedroom. Mike is a early riser so he got up slightly before dawn and went downstairs.

Which for those of you who don’t know a kong is a dog toy made out of plunger like rubber. It squeaks and pops when chewed on.

I am not a early riser, so I roll over and attempt to get a little more sleep in. Brutus usually climbs in bed with me right after Mike gets up but this time I hear Brutus chewing on his kong under the bed. Squeaky, squeaky, squeaky is not really conducive for sleeping.

I grumble “Brutus” which is usually all I ever need to say, because he always seemed to just know what I want.

SIlence for a few minutes. Then squeak, squeak, pop over by the closet.

Me getting annoyed “Brutus, knock it off”

more silence, almost enough for me to fall asleep.

Squeaky, squeaky, pop. Only this time it was up by the ceiling. (thaaat’s right)

I open my eyes, the room is well lit by this time and I roll over to the edge of the bed and look under it. (It’s a very old bed that stands well up off the floor.)

No Brutus. In fact no Brutus anywhere in the room. He had left with Mike.

Honestly I don’t remember if I got up or not. That kinda thing really isn’t enough to scare me. It’s almost like a practical joke on their part. (whoever they may be) Anyway, there was no more noises after I discovered I was alone in the room.

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