Yeeeeeah. There's no dog. And by no I mean gone and by dog I mean Zooey. What??! Well, she wasn't ever MY dog, was she? I was merely a steward of an animal that wasn't mine in any way. Sure, she had bits of my heart, but that's the extent of my dog investment. That and the tears I shed as she merrily jumped into the car of her new owners.
Zooey is gone but she's in a much better place... and I'm not alluding to doggy heaven because that would be sick. I'm alluding to a nice couple with a big house with a big yard that houses another dog as well as the knowledge that one half of this couple happens to have extensive pet care experience via PetSmart. We've also been told that at least one half of this couple is around all day. I'm positive this combination is exactly what Zooey needs. I'm positive she jumped in that Corolla and never looked back. We, on the other hand, may take a week or two.
However, THAT'S not the point of this post.
The point of this post is to point out how I live in a very old house on the borders of a sketchy neighborhood and now instead of blaming the weird noises coming from the back of the house on the dog, I have to accept it may be the robbing/creeper/raper/murdering/zombie/disgruntled ghost I always imagined might enjoy a very old house with very creaky floors.
Perhaps a heavy footed cat is in order.