“What the hell is that moron dog barking at now?”, I thought. It’s not at all uncommon for him to start yapping at someone walking up to the side of the house next door, of if the doorbell rings, but this was just plain barking at nothing. He’d pace around the hallway and living room, let out the occasional low growl, and every now and then let loose with a barking fit. Finally I chased him from the living room as my wife and I settled in to watch a little TV.
“Ka-clannnng!”, came from the floor. Which was odd, since random metal-falling-on-metal noises don’t generally come up from the basement, but there it was. Then I put two and two (or barking and clanging) together and figured it out – something, or someone, was in our basement.
“Someone’s in the basement!”, said my wife, “Go get your gun and check it out!”
I don’t own a gun, but what the hell…this house is nearly 150 years old, and you can look down from the living room and see the basement through the spaces in the floor – sound travels very well between the two rooms. If it is someone, and they think I’m-a heading down there with a gun, maybe they’ll make themselves scarce.
I go down there and find no people, but after a bit a searching I come face-to-face with the culprit.
(Hey, good timing for me to have to run to a meeting. Coming soon, THitB Part 2: The Unimaginably Violent Encounter!)