The Pet Cemetery

Here’s a little funny little story about Millie.

Millie and I walk around the yard for exercise or fun. Sometimes, to step outside the box, we walk alongside the road, but she has rules for road walking like:

• the temperature cannot be over 80 degrees,
• no cars must come down the road,
• no mowers mowing,
• no wind blowing her hair,
• and no long distance walking.

If her rules are ignored, Millie displays the Missouri mule syndrome where she sits down and won’t budge. However, Millie loves walking in her yard, except, for—the place.

Her reaction to the place wasn’t evident to me, for weeks. Yes, I saw her vacant stares; her mid-step pauses where there seemed to be an invisible force field stretched across the back end of my property preventing her from crossing. At first, I just figured it was another of her rules, but the next day she did the same and not in a stubborn way. It became a thing.

Finally I got it.

I remembered—my pet cemetery. Buried under the old maple tree is my Yorkshire Terrier, Tiki, who would be 38 years old this year, if she hadn’t died; Rain, my daughter’s blond cat, who rests there; and Suki Aki, my boxer, who would be 24 years old, if she hadn’t died at the age of eleven. For some reason, Millie doesn’t want to walk in that area.

But the creepiest thing happened Sunday night.

Millie decided she would go outside to potty for the first time EVER, in the dark, and I was pleased. Even though I’m a lot little scared of the dark, I was happy to take her outside. She doesn’t like the dark much either, so she hurried along (I could tell), finished her business and started to come back inside when she walked over to the chain link fence, looked through it in the direction of the maple tree and stared.  I wasn't thinking clearly when I followed her gaze. But when I came to my senses, I realized that if I saw the glowing eyes of anything—dead or alive, she would be left outside to defend herself against owls and eagles, so I turned away from the pet cemetery and hurried her inside.

Let me give you this advice, my friends. Never opt to look into the eyes of anything in the dark.

Is Millie seeing anything for real? I don’t know. I really don’t want to know. But I’m thinking she may be a dog medium. It makes sense with all of the trances she goes into when pushed out of her comfort zone. However, she is not taking clients, at this time. 

One thing I do know, I have an idea for a short story from this experience.   

I know my post is off schedule, posted on Tuesday instead of Monday, but I’m off kilter right now. I may share that with you, too, another day.