Having not watched a movie for a very long time, my husband and I considered renting one. I scanned through the endless list of titles, stopping now and then to check on the subject matter. It seemed most where ghost filled horror stories. I wondered why this was and then it dawned on me. Ah yes, it's October, the time for all things spooky.
We have been waiting, sometimes impatiently, for this month to arrive. October is the month of Runtly's birth. The small, tiny, runt of the litter, that I worried would not get enough nourishment due to the fact he was only about half the size of his six other siblings.
Runtly, the Jack Russel Terrier (aka terrorist). The fast as a speeding bullet, white streak of lightening, who rips through the house at breakneck speeds. The four legged living steel ball from a pinball machine that boings off of any stationery object. The dog, with one floppy ear, who now stands taller than his mother. The "Jumpin' Jack Flash" of the canine world who can leap five feet, straight into the air, with little effort. The animal who can give the "What?" look when he is found on top of the chest of drawers, the top of the spiral staircase, the stack of boxes in the basement, the kitchen island. The relentless fetching machine, that we used to keep track of how many times he would bring back an object. The animal who sheds so profusely that there is nothing left that is sacred to the hair of the dog. The earmuff stealing, catch me if you can, critter who seems to think I need more exercise. The animated shredding machine who has discovered toilet paper tastes so much better after it has been pulled off the roll and strung through the house. The "I can sit in your seat before you do", as you are descending into the chair, ball of perpetual motion.
Runtly will be one year old this month and we were foolish enough to think he would begin to calm down. We do not see this happening any time soon and have been assured that even at ten years of age, this breed will still be going strong.
It has been eight years since Mother passed away. Since that time, I have delved deep into research of the after life. One of the things I have found to be a common thread in my studies is, there is no sense of time, as we observe it, on the other side of the veil. This seems to give our dearly departed a unique view of past, present and future happenings.
One of the many experiences we have had, since Mother passed, was with the toilet seat lid. My husband has spent his entire life surrounded by members of the opposite sex. He learned early on, the dire consequences for leaving the toilet seat up, but, he never shut the lid to the seat. No one in this household ever did.
On several occasions, in the wee hours of the night, we would find the seat lid down. We would discuss this toilet phenomenon and finally decided it was Mother's way of showing us she still had a sense of humor.
I have since come to the conclusion it was a sign. Perhaps even an omen of things to come because the toilet bowl has become Runtly's favorite place to drop whatever toy happens to be toy-of-the-day. This is usually some object that sinks. I have found him hanging over the edge, peering into the bowl with his head cocked to one side, pondering the most ideal way to retrieve it.
Things that go shut in the night now apply to all hours of the day.
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