By Rick Hinton
A reboot from 06/09/2016
Do you recall these occasions? Sweetie the pooch, or Studs the cat, suddenly turning their attention very intensely into a corner of the room, staring with a fixed gaze? Maybe there’s a low growl from Sweetie, or hair standing up on the back of Studs as his tail twitches across the floor. A dark, empty barn produces nervous side stepping from the horses, with their tails twitching like fans. You are oblivious and see nothing, rationalizing it’s just some kind of animal thing. It could be. Or maybe you have just experienced something of a paranormal nature and didn’t make the connection.
Animals have a heightened sense of awareness. It is thought we humans once did also, but generally grow out of it after our childhood. Animals, however, don’t grow out of it. They see and hear things that you and I never will. I don’t know how it works; it just does. Is it a type of sixth sense that places a different spin on what we consider normalcy? Or … are there things just behind the veil only privy to them? It makes a sort of sense. …
There are paranormal groups that use dogs in their investigations. I haven’t heard of any groups using felines, which I get. Cats could care less about helping you and have no desire to expand beyond their daily routine of food and long naps. Dogs, however, will most often let you know if something fishy is going on. If it’s something of a supernatural nature, they generally go on high alert; or shrink back trembling and become useless. They can’t vocalize what is happening but are sure entertaining to watch. I tried a dog once. He was on continual lookout for something to eat and begged snacks, pooped on the floor (twice) and had a strong desire for someone to rub his stomach continuously. He just wasn’t into it! I haven’t used one since.
I did think for a while that I had a paranormal cat. Years ago, Casey – the cat of wonder – would plant herself in the front bedroom of our mobile home (my newborn son’s room) and stare transfixed at a painting of Jesus kneeling in the Garden of Gethsemane. Frankly, to see her sitting in the dark and staring at the picture for hours creeped me out, yet I was determined to figure it out. Had Casey become a Christian puss? What exactly was going on in a cat’s mind? I sat with her in the dark one night and possibly came up with a solution. Passing traffic headlights from the street outside played through the bedroom window shades, moving briefly across the glass of the picture. Debunked! I relocated the picture and the mystery was solved. It didn’t, however, explain the voices coming from this room over the baby monitor. Casey was of no help in that area.
Presently, I can only imagine what transpires in our compound on Southport Road with Norm the dog (deceased) and Jerry the cat. It seems to be a house of “secrets.” Paranormal quirks are almost a daily occurrence, and both animals are here all day alone. At night, they huddle with the humans and stare into a world we cannot see. They react to something just behind the shadows.
If only they could speak … the stories they could tell!