"Your Dog is Dead."

        N and I were going to visit my parents. As soon as we arrive, dad comes out of the door between the house and the garage (When the garage door is open we often use that door as it is much easier to open and we don’t have to wrestle with the world’s toughest screen door.)

        “Brace yourself, you dog is dead.”

        We don’t have a dog, and my one attempt at dog ownership ended in euthanasia at only a couple of weeks. I figured he must have been talking about T-Rex, who N refers to as my dog.

        “No, T-Rex, no!” I ran into their house to the patio, where I assumed T-Rex would have been staying. (Though I don’t know why he would have been at my parent’s home.)

        I got to the patio, and there was Sasha, my dog, only very much a ghostly form. Crystal and her kittens were there (White cats) as well as Tiny and several of our other deceased pets.

        I thought this was becoming a real night terror at that point, but the animal spirits were actually comforting, and a little reassuring even if they were creepy at the same time.

Ad astra per technica,

FF