A Run-In with … Something

I almost always enjoy my morning walks with my dog (just 4yrs) and son (2.5 yrs) as I never know just what will happen to us. A couple of months ago he insisted on jumping down from my shoulders so he could ‘say hi to the faeries’. We had just come up to a little cross-road in the path and, after alighting, he proceeded to wave and say ‘hi’.

Now, I have not begun introducing my son to faerie lore as yet – I thought it was safest that way as I am all too familiar with the numerous stories of young childred ‘fostered’ by the faeries. Nevertheless, here he was speaking to what I could not see and then, lo and behold, DANCING to music I could not hear. He finally stopped, listened for a second and then said “OK, bye.” and rushed off down the path toward home. Since then he often stops just at that spot and has a little chat with the denizens before racing for home.

All well and good until last night.

Home late from lecturing, I took the dog and boy out after dark and paused at the same crossroad while the dog cavorted through the woods around us and the boy looked out into the darkness beside me. It was an excellent spot for watching the waxing crescent slowly head for the West and as he and I stood there I kind of lost track of my thoughts.

In the periphery of my awareness I thought I heard my dog, a little black mix of Border Collie and Lab., move up behind me and nose through the bushes right at my back. I even turned and just caught a low, dark shape moving quickly off into the brush. Suddenly, my dog – Scout – came racing up the path on my far left and I turned to see what had just headed off to my right. There was nothing to see …

To be clear, this was too big to be a cat, racoon or other animal. It was low, but erect – like a dog – but in retrospect there was nothing but my assumption to say that it was four legged. It’s speed and silence … well, let’s just say that I am convinced that it was more likely one of my son’s faeries – or something else he’s started seeing … something he calls a ‘grumpy’ … that was out with us under the waxing moon.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s