It was a warm and humid summer evening in the sleepy town of Kamuela, Hawaii. I was getting ready to turn down for the night when I caught a glimpse of an unusual shadow figure in the bedroom mirror.
Was that my reflection? I thought to myself. It had to be; my husband was already in bed, sound asleep.
“Get a grip, Rogene. You’ve been watching too many horror flicks,” I mumbled aloud as I turned off the lights, slipped into bed and drifted to sleep.
I’m a light sleeper; any subtle movement or unusual sounds will awake me at night. So, later that evening, when I felt a slight brush on my feet my eyes shot open. I looked over to my husband to see if he was tugging on the sheets, but he was lying completely still on the opposite end. I turned to look at the clock; it was 3am, too early to get up.
A half hour had passed when I felt another tug on sheets. My night vision had not taken hold so I felt around the area.
I tried to wake my husband, but he was out cold. Annoyed by the disruptions, I turned on the lights to further inspect.
I noticed nothing unusual. So, I went back to bed with the blanket pulled over my head. Minutes later I felt something (or someone) lean on my side of the bed. Whatever it was, it began to breath heavily.
Petrified, I lay still.
When I found the courage to peak my head out from under the blanket, a familiar scent quickly put me at ease. It was the smell of doggie breath.