TIME FOR GHOSTLY PRESENT FROM DOG

        A thick mist, too high from the ground to be fog, hung low in the trees, trailing eerily from branch to branch. Its dampness hushing the natural sounds of birds and traffic.
       No wind stirred the drooping leaves and I held my breath against the scentless odor of chilly air. Even the brilliant colors of the fall foliage had lost their glow.
       The clock said that it was nearly noon, but the watery light that filtered through the vapor made everything appear suspended in a timeless world.
I felt as though I had awakened into a dream and was moving through a day detached from reality.
        The sound of barking caused me to look anxiously around the corner for a dog I knew I wouldn't see. I recognized the bark, it belonged to Keisha, my Afghan Hound who had died several months ago.
        As I waited for higher sunlight to change this daymare state back to normal, I became drowsy. I laid down to doze, hoping that when I arose from a nap I would find the world as it ought to be instead of this translucent illusion.
       The dogs napped with me, the pup in his crate and the others snoozing on the floor by the couch where I slept deeply. Later, disturbed only by the padding of soft paws walking back and forth on the floor behind my back, I pushed my head between the cushions and struggled to get back into a heavy slumber.
       Sleep was elusive, driven away by the persistent tinkle of pet I.D. tags clinking together when one of the dogs paced the living room. Which ever one it was, moved restlessly, unable to settle themselves comfortably.
Despite my efforts to ignore the noise, the disruption continued, so I sat up to see who was responsible for waking me.
        Wylie, the youngest and most active of the bunch, was securely in his crate, eyes tightly closed. Oslo the other male Elkhound still snored, not roused by anything. My rescue dog, Libbet, had crept into a chair and was likewise asleep.
       Believing that I must have dreamt the disturbance, I lay back down on my side and attempted to return to sleep myself. But the clinking and padding sounds continued.
        Warily, I opened one eye. Nothing. I opened the other eye, imperceptibly shifted my head and observed three sleeping dogs. Yet the sound was still there. I was definitely and completely awake.
       I had not dreamed the noise, it resounded in my ears, not my imagination. I froze in place as I watched the motionless dogs and listened to the inexplicable sound of canine motion.
       Libbet's keen hearing detected something too, evidenced by the rotation of her pointed ears in her sleep. She awoke, a startled expression on her face, and swiveled her head towards the invisible source of the noise.
       Whatever she saw or "sensed" must have scared her. She leapt out of the chair and attempted to crawl beneath the furniture. Her dark, frightened eyes darted across the room watching something that I could not see.
        Snorting awake, Oslo looked at Libbet, then peered intently towards the direction where she was staring. His wise brown eyes then caught mine before returning to look at a murky patch of light shimmering on the floor behind a lamp table.
He stood and crossed to smell the peculiar spot, but jerked his nose away as if a bug had bitten him. He stepped back, wagged his powder puff of a tail once, then walked into the kitchen where Libbet had redirected her stare.
        Ever the curious pup, Wylie was awake and intrigued by his pals activity. He trotted into the kitchen, but just as quickly double-stepped backwards and hurriedly left the room. As was his habit with new and undetermined situations, he lowered his head, raised his hackles and began a staccato of barking aimed at some unseen thing in the kitchen.
        Too curious myself to be afraid, I followed Oslo and just barely caught a glimpse of a miasmic, black form fade through the corner of the refrigerator. Oslo and I gazed out the glass door into the yard where another dim area of quivering light, the same two-by-two foot size as the now vanished spot in the living room, played slowly over the ground between the trees.
        However, there was no sunshine outside. The sky was blocked by greyness and the thin haze still floated in the treetops like a drizzle that refused to fall to earth.
       I stood, transfixed until the last sparkle drifted across the width of the yard and disappeared.
        Oslo had already gone back to sleep. Wylie was chewing on a toy and Libbet was again curled in the chair, calmly watching the puppy. The whole mysterious episode was now only a memory, prone to change and error each time it would be recalled.
        A psychiatrist would explain the event as a delusion and want to bill me for therapy sessions.
        But how would that account for the reaction of every one of the dogs? Any behaviorist would tell me that I was "anthropomorphizing" and transferring my own emotions onto the dogs.
       A psychic would say that I had been visited by a spirit from beyond the grave and would charge to re-establish contact; no pets allowed since they might break our concentration.
       What do I believe happened that haze-enshrouded day? I think that for a brief moment, the misty veil between the known and the unknown, merged to permit matter to touch spirit -- mine and Keisha's. And I'm a little richer for the encounter.
        Anything is possible in this high-tech, New Age world.
        Am I weird? Yes, my relatives and friends tell me that I am. Am I crazy? Probably, aren't we all to some extent? Besides it's the month of my birth, I'm allowed to act a little kooky as I celebrate the aging process. What a unique birthday present.
        Keisha couldn't have picked a more appropriate time for her visit. Afterall, October is the season for ghosts, apparitions and unexplained sightings. Hope you all had a happy Halloween.