There is something living in our house. Every so often I’ll be awakened by the sound of something gnawing on what sounds like wood in our closet. I get up and stomp my feet and bang doors to frighten it off. To this point I’ve chalked it up to a mouse, though you would think with 4 barn-cats-turned-garage-cats we wouldn’t have mice. But mice happen. It’s just one of the more lovely perks to living in an old farm house.
Then yesterday morning I was lying in bed, willing myself to get up, when I heard something scampering up and down the hallway. It sounded just like our house cats playing, except we don’t have house cats anymore. Definitely bigger than a mouse.
Haven’t heard anything since. Matt thinks I dreamed it. I’m wondering if it’s the ghosts of our former housecats. If it happens again I’ll be on the phone with the pest control guy immediately.