It was ten o'clock at night and the Englishman was already in bed. I had just settled in for an episode of American Horror Story when I heard a knock on the front door. I quickly muted the television and listened intently. Another quick but distinct knock came again. I looked behind me and could clearly see Chase sleeping soundly on the couch. He was the only door knocker in the house. Charlie was at my feet and didn't react to the knock. I crept from my chair to the fire place which shielded me from view of the two large windows on either side of the front door. I had a decision to make: lunge to the right and into the dining room where I had left my concealed weapon or dive to the left and into my bedroom in order to wake the Englishman and have him take care of things. I knew that if I woke him and it was nothing, I would be subjected to his version of the night at parties and family gatherings for years to come. Another loud knock could be heard on the door.
I took a deep breath and gracefully used my limited gymnastics skills to enter the dining room with cat-like stealth. Weapon in hand, I recalled episodes of Charlie's Angels and Law and Order: SVU and peeked bravely around the corner where I glimpsed a fluffy black tail in the window. A dog tail. Abby's tail. Relieved, I opened the door and praised her. She pranced into the house, panting heavily. Abby must have exited the house via the dog door and returned via the front door. I pondered over how long she had been gone, where she went and what she did to cause her to drink the entire dog bowl of water. I returned to finish my program and hoped that the only person she terrified on this dark and spooky night was me.
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