Here's a story I've told here before. My background is in science and I'm not a particularly superstitious person.
Years ago, I would take our big black lab to the dog park first thing every morning before I went to work. I didn't want him running on a full stomach, so his breakfast was always waiting for him in the basement family room when I brought him home, and he would charge it eagerly.
One morning, we came home and he started down the stairs to his breakfast, but stopped about halfway down. His fur went up and he actually backed up the stairs (which I would have guessed was impossible.) He made a low growl, unlike anything I've heard before or since. This was not, BTW, a nervous or fearful dog.
I was afraid there might be someone downstairs that shouldn't be, but that wasn't the reaction I would expect from that dog when encountering a human threat. I explored the basement, a little nervously, and there was nothing there - unless you count my mother-in-law's ashes in an urn on a shelf, awaiting burial. They had recently arrived from Denver, but that's another story.
My two children had each experienced odd things in that basement since my MIL had arrived in that urn, but I was inclined to dismiss them as young, overactive imaginations. I don't believe dogs have imaginations, so that wasn't so easy to dismiss.
He actually skipped breakfast altogether until I returned that evening and went downstairs with him.
Years ago, I would take our big black lab to the dog park first thing every morning before I went to work. I didn't want him running on a full stomach, so his breakfast was always waiting for him in the basement family room when I brought him home, and he would charge it eagerly.
One morning, we came home and he started down the stairs to his breakfast, but stopped about halfway down. His fur went up and he actually backed up the stairs (which I would have guessed was impossible.) He made a low growl, unlike anything I've heard before or since. This was not, BTW, a nervous or fearful dog.
I was afraid there might be someone downstairs that shouldn't be, but that wasn't the reaction I would expect from that dog when encountering a human threat. I explored the basement, a little nervously, and there was nothing there - unless you count my mother-in-law's ashes in an urn on a shelf, awaiting burial. They had recently arrived from Denver, but that's another story.
My two children had each experienced odd things in that basement since my MIL had arrived in that urn, but I was inclined to dismiss them as young, overactive imaginations. I don't believe dogs have imaginations, so that wasn't so easy to dismiss.
He actually skipped breakfast altogether until I returned that evening and went downstairs with him.