The Disappearance of Reggie

Disappearance of ReggieMost days our lives don’t mimic movies. I find this to be a tragedy since I would really love Joel Edgerton to come sweep me off my feet (or his brother Nash… either is acceptable). Once in a while, however, it seems like moments in our day come straight from an IMAX screen. Normally this would be amazing in my opinion, but my movie moment unfortunately came straight from my least favorite genre: horror.

Growing up there were two boys who lived across the street from me. I loved babysitting for the family because the boys were funny and mischievous. They also had an old dog, Reggie, who loved nothing more than to curl up next to me and sleep. It was basically a dream job for a teenager.

One particular night in the middle of winter we had a fairly lazy evening. It started with a snowball fight, we ate our weight in pizza, and then we sat on the couch to watch the Bruins game. Just before the boys went upstairs for bed the youngest, Jack, went to the kitchen to put his dishes in the sink. When he came back he had a disturbing question, “Abby, why is the back-door open?”

That was a phenomenal question.

Jimmy and I got up to see if Jack was joking. He wasn’t. The back-door was slowly moving back and forth as winter winds blew through the house. I quickly closed the door trying to come up with an excuse to calm the boys, but mostly myself, down. Jack called for Reggie so we could do a quick head count. Nothing. Jimmy and I called for the dog. Reggie didn’t come. Reggie was missing.

Now, I’m not a fan of horror films, but I’ve seen enough to know that the phrase “I have an idea. Let’s split up” is how most characters are killed off. Many people in my situation, thinking clearly, would have simply walked next door with the boys to my house where my large, strong father would have been glad to check out the house for me. I’m smart, but not that smart. I would last about 50-75 minutes into the horror film before my time was up.

Alone with two middle-school-age boys in an old house we did the only thing we could think of. Each of us grabbed a hockey stick, I also armed myself with a flashlight, and we tip-toed through the house searching for kidnappers and serial killers. Why wouldn’t we just turn on the lights in every room to check? For some reason seeing a chainsaw-wielding killer in fluorescent light is scarier than just lighting up his mask-covered face. What would we have done if we DID find some creeper in the house? Probably dropped our weapons and run. I don’t have the upper body strength to take down a crazed clown.

We walked through the entire house and found nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. We went back downstairs to the living room and curled up on the couch. The boys didn’t want to go upstairs to bed. I didn’t want them to leave me alone. The babysitter dies right after the dog.

It was then that we heard something coming towards us from the other room. As we scrunched closer together fearing what was yet to come Reggie came prancing in wagging his tail. As we all reached over to scratch his head we felt a cold breeze sweep through the living room. I walked to the back-door to find it open once more.

That is when Jack said the most frustrating sentence I have ever heard, “Oh yeah! We forgot to tell you. Reggie learned how to open doors.”

Stupid dog.

(image of door courtesy of Master isolated images/ freedigitalphotos.net)

 

If you enjoyed this story, you may enjoy reading about the amazing dog Buster, who also has a few tricks up his paw.

Abby Smith About Abby Smith

Abby Smith is a ginger lady born and raised in The Shire (New Hampshire that is). She now lives in Los Angeles and spends her days burning in the sun and wishing southern California got more snow. If she had a cow she would name it Moolan. You can follow her on Twitter @ReddHede or on Tumblr at aellensmith.tumblr.com

Abby Smith About Abby Smith

Abby Smith is a ginger lady born and raised in The Shire (New Hampshire that is). She now lives in Los Angeles and spends her days burning in the sun and wishing southern California got more snow. If she had a cow she would name it Moolan. You can follow her on Twitter @ReddHede or on Tumblr at aellensmith.tumblr.com

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