(Post # 24) A Very Different and Unexpected Experience: How I Became a Ghost Hunter—Somewhat
After leaving my time with Ripley behind (April/May), I found myself moving just across Pender Island to another house-sitting gig (May/June). This time, it was with Trish and Dan, a couple I had met on the beach during one of Ripley’s many adventures and who knew my last house/pet sitters. Their place was like something out of a forest fairytale—a big, cozy log house that used to be a Bed and Breakfast. They had decided a few years back to hang up the “No Vacancy” sign for good because, as Dan put it, “serving bacon and eggs before 9 a.m. gets old fast.”
I was invited to stay with them for a night before they left on their cruise, which was a great opportunity to get to know the house, the dogs, and—most importantly—the story behind it all. As soon as I stepped through the door, I was greeted by two dogs, Katie Mae, a Shar-Pei/Golden Retriever mix with soulful eyes, and Zorra, a feisty Border Terrier who acted like she ran the place. These two were clearly in charge, and I had a sneaking suspicion they were going to test me before granting full acceptance.
The house had that old-timey charm—antique furniture from Trish’s late mother, family photos, and the kind of nostalgic vibe that made you want to wear a shawl and sit by the fire with tea. However, there was also a subtle “creaky floorboard” feel, like the house might suddenly burst into storytelling mode. While we chatted over dinner, Trish mentioned—oh so casually—that their last house sitter had bolted after just one night, leaving the dogs alone and claiming they felt uneasy. Uneasy? In a house with fluffy blankets, good dogs, and a view of the woods? I laughed it off but made a mental note.
When they showed me the guest bedroom options, I picked the one with Trish’s late mother’s antique furniture. I figured, how bad could it be? I joked, “So, your mom’s not going to make a ghostly cameo tonight, right?” Trish gave me a look that was halfway between “Of course not” and “Well, maybe.” Not exactly the reassurance I was hoping for. I immediately responded to her facial expression by laughing and saying “hey, now you are scaring me”. One would think that would be a good time for her to also laugh and tell me they are playing with me. But, instead, they changed the topic.
The next evening, after I waved them off on their cruise, I was left to my own devices—and, of course, the dogs. Things were going smoothly until nightfall. Katie Mae and Zorra, who were supposed to be my loyal nighttime companions, suddenly decided they weren’t coming in. At all. They just sat outside, staring into the woods like they were waiting for a secret signal from a canine cult. I called, I begged, I even offered treats, but no dice. I started to feel a bit like the rejected camp counselor at a ghost story campfire.
Feeling more than a little spooked, I packed up my bedding and relocated to the loft where Trish, Dan and the dogs usually slept, thinking that maybe the dogs would feel more at home up there. And lo and behold, as soon as I got up to the loft, the dogs raced up the stairs and settled in like they had been waiting for me to get the memo. So, there I was, safe in the loft with my new best friends—except I decided it best to not use the facilities up there, but to venture downstairs to use the bathroom in the guest bedroom where I kept all my clothes and personal items. Brilliant.
The first few days and nights were uneventful, aside from the usual getting-to-know-you routine with the dogs. I busied myself organizing their kitchen cupboards (which was both a gift to them and an escape mechanism), walking the dogs on the trails Trish had mapped out for me, and generally trying to shake off this odd feeling of gloom that seemed to hang over the house. It wasn’t like me to feel off—especially not in a house full of doggie kisses and surrounded by nature—but every time I returned to the house, it felt like it was, well, watching me. Maybe it was just the minimal amount of sunlight in the house due to the canopy of trees? I kept trying to think up excuses for how I was feeling.
Then, things started to happen. Weird enough to send me running.
Katie Mae Sitting on the Log House Deck
Comments
Post a Comment