After being stumped and confused the first few times I heard these footsteps, I've come to believe they belong to my mom. She's with me, walking alongside me just as we used to do when we'd walk our dogs together before her sudden passing in 2009. Oh, how I miss her.
Now I know what you're thinking: maybe missing my mother has me hearing things, right? Well, let's ask the dog.
Yes, the dog. Because I walking Olivia around our quiet neighborhood last week, doing the usual woolgathering about really important stuff. You know, like what to have for dinner and if "Nashville" was a repeat tonight, when once again I heard the footsteps. As always, not thinking about it, I stepped aside to let the person behind me pass before I realized that--yet again--there was no one there. Nothing but air, just like the other half dozen occurrences.
This time, however, Olivia reacted. With her perked ears looking like two little pup tents, she put on the brakes and stared behind us. She clearly saw something that wasn't visible to my myopic eyes. I crouched down on one knee so my face was level with hers and followed her gaze. Was there a flirty squirrel somewhere? Maybe a stray dog, injured bird, or crazed stalker hiding behind a bush just waiting to slash my throat?
What was holding my dog's attention?
Nothing. At least nothing that I could see. The only movement was the leaves gently rustling in the soft spring breeze. No cars. No people. No animals. I waited a few minutes to see if something--anything--materialized, but it didn't, so I tugged at Olivia's leash. "C'mon girl," I said. "Let's go."
But our walk was interrupted because Olivia was intrigued by whatever she was seeing. For the next half mile, she kept stopping and twisting her neck to look behind us. This dog couldn't have been more preoccupied if there was a barbecued pork chop trailing us. Each time I followed her gaze and again each time--nothing.
Nothing to the naked eye, that is. If I questioned the footsteps before, Olivia confirmed that I'm not imagining things. Call it what you may, but one thing is for sure: we are not alone on these walks.
1 comment:
I'd say that obviously your mother is not alone. She's waking Elvis right behind the two of you!
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