hunkiest and i are convinced are house houses a ghost.

a friendly ghost albeit. non prone to spooking, hi-jinks, nor treachery.

but said ghost has bewitched our dear truman.

lately we’ve been finding truman in the most curious rooms of our abode, fixedly staring at nothing? .

we’ve learned to respectfully wait these private moments out. previous attempts to cull truman free from these trances only sends him right back in hours later, facing another blank wall with an earnest interest and puppy-like joy we haven’t seen in the last 10 of his 12 years.

we’ve checked the house for pests…{just priscilla}, and we’ve checked truman out with the vet.

all is good.

we can only conclude ’tis a ghost.

evenings are its most active hours.

all night long ghost friendly and pal truman gambol and escapade in the deepest, most unused corners of our, now, creaky home.

spilling down stairs and tag-teaming ’round the den;

truman and his friend’s rousing romper room inhibit even the household’s heaviest sleeper {again priscilla} from shut eye.

we’ve even tried to lock our oldest, best behaved of all beasts ever owned, in at night;

but all that’s left us with is a scratched up bedroom door, and a new impression of our so-called golden boy.

for now we endure the new night time capers.

yes, it’s disruptive and gives to an occasional scare or startle.

but that bump in the night seems to have brought new life into my old fella t-man.

bring on the séances!