I am such a 'fraidy cat. For people who know me, this is nothing new, but recently I took being scared to a new level. One night last week when I let our dog outside for his nightly romp and “business”, I heard a strange noise in the front yard. Because it was ten o’clock and about 25 degrees outside, I stood in the front doorway, bathed in the yellow light from the bug light. The pale yellow glow only projected a few feet from the porch, so I couldn’t see which direction the dog went.
At the moment the dog bounded off into the blackness, I heard a metallic scraping noise from the corner of the house. At first I thought it was my overactive imagination, but when I opened the door to call for the dog, I heard the noise again.
My hubby had recently been up on the roof to retrieve a wayward Frisbee, and he had left the metal ladder laying next to the front porch, so I thought maybe the dog had bumped into it. But the dog wasn’t answering my calls, and every time I opened the door and stuck my head out, I heard the noise again.
The hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end and I had cold shivers run down my spine. I closed the door and said to my hubby, “There’s someone in the front yard.” He laughed and said it was probably the dog, but by this time I was convinced someone was standing near the ladder, just a few feet from the front door.
Hubby got up and came to the door. He opened the door, and I heard the noise again. “Did you hear that? There it goes again!” He stepped out onto the porch and whistled for the dog. Then my hubby started laughing harder.
“Is that the noise you heard,” as the squeaky noise sounded again.
“Yes, who is that?”
My hubby nearly doubled over with laughter as the dog came bounding back into the house.
The lurking stranger who was waiting to murder us all in our sleep was actually the English Ivy that had grown up to the front porch and was rubbing on the metal door every time it was opened.
Needless to say, pruning was on my to-do list for the next day.
