Here's a story for you. I came downstairs yesterday morning all half awake and hobbling like I do in the morning, and there, in front of the stove was a dog biscuit.
A dog biscuit.
You understand what I'm saying here, right? A dog biscuit was in front of the stove. A whole dog biscuit.
I had the dog euthenized in the spring. I gave his dog things away almost immediately because it made me cry to see them. We have not had a beef basted biscuit in the house since.
There is only one explanation possible. My dog's ghost haunts the kitchen. It was his favorite place, after all. He was a big dog, and he took up most of the kitchen as he waited, just a little anxiously, for the cook to drop something. Which she did a lot. (Usually, after saying, "Buck!") So Buck is back, and fitting, isn't it, being that he timed his return to coincide with Halloween and all?
Well. Then there is another explanation, I suppose. Just to play it safe, the first thing that I did when I got to work was to buy some mouse bait. There is the off chance that this might be the beginning of our annual mouse immigration. They attempt to take up residence each year as soon as it starts getting cold.
So, it could be a ghost dog, or mice. One of the two.
I still cannot figure out where the dog biscuit came from though.