themuseinme

In light of what I wrote in my last blog post, “I’m Beginning to Hate this Closet,” you’ll never guess what happened this morning.  First of all, to set the record straight so that everyone knows:  parts of the last few posts have been reality and parts have been conceived in my mind to get a point across.  I know that most of you realize that, but just in case someone doesn’t, that’s the way they work.  However, I do believe and it is reality to me that I have a muse.  I feel his presence on a daily basis and I have conversations with him about my purpose and how he inspires me to achieve it.  (I hope that you don’t think I’m crazy but, if you remember, I am trying to let go of the fear of what people think.) 

In reality, we really have neighbors who have a tiny, yappy Chihuahua that they leave outside most of the day and night.  As I was up early this morning banging around in the kitchen, I realized the neighbors must have let out the dogs because I heard Yappy beginning his morning bark.  After unloading the dishwasher, I grabbed a handful of paper towels and Windex and went out on the back porch to clean off the glass coffee table top.  Yappy was barking ferociously for such a small bundle of nerves and wasn’t letting up.  “I wonder what’s got that dog carrying on so?” I thought, aggravated at the prospect of this going on most of the day.  It seemed louder than ever.  “This is going to drive me crazy!” 

I turned and took a few steps toward the screen door, wondering what was happening on the other side of our eight foot fence.  My imagination was starting to take over.  In my mind’s eye I saw the two large bull dogs, the neighbors other two dogs, cowering in the corner of their yard, Yappy putting them “in their places” with her bulging eyes and sharp tongued bark.  Like little Barney Fife giving big ole Otis “what for” as he locked him in the county jail on suspicion of being a happy, singing drunk…when to my surprise, I looked down toward the ground and saw Yappy.  At least I thought it was Yappy.  He was two feet from my screen door looking at me with a ton of hate and barking at me as he was going to tear a hole in the screen, come through the door and chew my legs off.    For a few seconds I was so stunned I truly wondered if I was in a dream.  This was the scene I had written about two days ago except it was not in silver moonlight.  It was broad daylight and, by God, it was real!

I was afraid.  This “holy terror” was doing his job.  What I had written had come true.  Fear was back at my door, trying his best to terrorize me.  Literally. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I said out loud to the itty bitty scruffy excuse for a dog that was yelling at me.   “What are you doing in my yard?  How the heck did you get in here? There’s no way in.” I looked over to the gate.  It was shut tight.  This barking head had just materialized before me.

I turned tail and ran into the house.  Bill was getting out of the shower, barely wrapped up in a towel.  “Bill, you’re not going to believe this.  Remember what I wrote about the other day? The yapping dog at the back door?  It‘s there.  Right now.  You’ve got to come see this.”  Almost naked, he followed me out to the back porch to look at the screaming Mimi.  “See, its right at the door.  Just like I wrote about.” 

Yappy wasn’t there.  He had de-materialized  and extricated himself from the yard.  Poof!  Disappeared into thin air.  “He was here just a second ago.  I swear!  He was barking just like the dog in the blog…” I trailed off.  Bill started laughing.  He opened the door and did a quick glance over of the yard.  “Hmmm…I think Yappy’s found a way to get in our yard. He’s back on the other side of the fence.”  To prove his point, Bill let the screen door slam shut.  Yappy immediately heard it and started barking at the noise. 

“You have to admit, that was weird.  I’ve never seen that dog in my yard.  I mean, after I wrote that blog, it just shows up here barking at my back door?  That’s just crazy!”

“I believe you, Donna,” Bill said.  “It just found a way to get under the fence or something.”  We came back in the house and shut the door behind us, still hearing Yappy barking like a sergeant would at his men during morning roll call.  “I don’t know….It just seems weird to me….I mean, Bill…That was just odd!  Right after I published that, this happens.  Do you think it’s a sign?”

Now, if you know me at all.  I’m a bit of a mystic.  I look for signs everywhere.  You know the song we used to sing back in the day…“Signs, Signs, everywhere there’s  signs.  Blocking up the scenery.  Breaking my mind. Do this.  Don’t do that, Can’t you read the sign?” I believe there is always a sign to lead me if I’m not sure of something or to confirm a decision I’ve made. That’s one way the muse shows things to me.  It’s like we have a “sign” language. Bill totally understands this about me and nodded his head in agreement. He’s used to my sign seeking.   It wasn’t just a neighbor’s dog that had gotten under our fence.  It was a bona fide, honest to goodness sign that manifested at my back door.

Bill got dressed and went on to work.  As soon as he walked out the door, I went to lock it and for good measure locked the screen door and the back door, too.  There was no way in H.E.Double toothpicks I was going to let that exasperating critter inside my house, should he show up barking in my back yard.  I sat down at the breakfast table and held my warm cup of coffee, wondering about the “sign.”  What kind of sign had it been?  A warning sign?  Was I going to get another stiff dose of fear even though the muse and I had (as in my blog post,) thrown that barking dog across the big road?  Was it showing up that soon to torment me again?  Or was it a sign confirming that I was on the right path, writing a blog to amuse others about situations my muse and I encounter and others might relate to?  Isn’t it funny that as obvious as things seem sometimes, we still have to weigh them and consider whether or not they are negative or positive?    Did they cause that or did I cause it?  Who said that….was it God or was it the devil?  Oh, come on…I know you’ve asked those questions before.  It’s called being human.  And for that reason, that’s why I’m going to have to say…I’m glad I have a muse to help me figure it out…and in this instance…I’m going with confirmation.  It was the muse showing me that I’m on the right track. Now if I could make that dog next door just shut up.