We celebrated Dave’s birthday with our daughter and grandsons. It was a nice time, and good visit, and a fine celebration. After everyone left the house, Dave and I took our usual Sunday nap. The house was quiet, and Dave and I just lounged around and enjoyed the afternoon.
I did notice, however, that our dog, Gracie, was acting strange. She kept pacing and jumping in the chair with Dave (not her usual behavior). She would go into the front den and lie down (not her usual sleeping place). Something was definitely amiss.
Pacing, pacing, pacing–she was about to make me nuts! What was going on with her? Dave got up and took her outside for a bit. She stuck to his leg like she was tied there (again, not usual behavior). When they came back in the house, Gracie lay down in the living room; and then all of a sudden she jumped up and began barking wildly in the direction of our kitchen.
“Did you lock the back door?” I inquired.
“Yes,” Dave told me. “Maybe there’s a mouse in the kitchen, and she saw it or something.”
Meanwhile, Gracie is barking wildly, the hair standing up on her back. Oh, good heavens!
I went to the kitchen and looked around, prepared to scream and run if I saw anything closely resembling vermin in my house. I grabbed my bottle of peppermint spray and proceeded to spray down all the drawers, the corners, the pantry–anywhere I thought a wild beast might be lurking.
Still, Gracie, growled and paced. And then she lay in the front room, as if hiding.
Bedtime came. I made my way from the living room, through the dining room and towards the kitchen. Something caught my attention as I passed through the dining room. There was movement to my left! I whirled and looked, and then I saw them–BALLOONS! Helium balloons. They moved and swayed as we walked past.
And Gracie is afraid of them.
Gracie is fine now, since Dave hid the balloons where she can’t see them. She’s fine, of course, until we run the vacuum cleaner, open a garbage bag, pop bubbles in bubble wrap, laugh or talk really loud, etc.
This life we live.
P.S. I tried to take a picture of Gracie. Guess what else she’s afraid of?