We all have them, correct? Or at least I’d like to think so. One could assume that we’d grow out of these fears after a while (aka after 25+ years..) Right? Well, wrong. For some reason the darkness and things hiding under my bed still scare me. There is no rhyme or reason for it. I’ve never had a traumatic experience with either. Until last night.
I went about my night time routines, got into PJ’s and hopped into bed (yes, I have to actually hop because we have a king-sized platform bed). I laid there for a couple seconds trying to get comfortable and then I heard a weird scratching/rustling noise under the bed.
I froze. Tried to be as still as possible. Listened carefully for the noise to repeat. Hoping I just imagined it.
*Rustle* *Scratch* *Bump*
I have spent YEARS dreading this exact moment and it was finally happening.
Obviously my first logical adult thought was “MONTSTER!!!”
Then I thought well maybe an animal got into the house.. we do kind of live in the country. Or maybe the cat brought an animal in! She’s been an evil little psycho lately.. so maybe it’s one of her little prisoners. Hopefully a cute little chipmunk or baby bunny…
or maybe it’s a rabid flesh eating vampire zombie .
After a couple seconds of these random thoughts, I worked up the courage to crawl to the end of the bed and reluctantly peer over the edge to see…
.. a small black puppy tail sticking out.
Apparently Bailey has found a new hiding spot for her toys and rawhides.
So I guess the moral of this story is to stop being such a wuss. And to check under the bed for monsters and puppies from now on..
Sincerely & Sarcastically,