- The Ghost Hunterby Barb Hensongispsaca
Not yet exceptional. When the exceptional rating is reached this is highlighted
Prose 2020
: The Ghost Hunter by Barb Hensongispsaca

Let me introduce you to my ghost hunter. Squeak is one of my rescue cats and I do believe a little background history is important for you to understand her mentality.

Her original name was Ginger. When I rescued her, she weighed almost 30 pounds. The kids in her original home tortured her all the time. She would eat quickly, then seek refuge wherever she could that would give her security from those she feared.

When she came to live with me, she had just finished fighting for her life at the end of a curtain cord that had been around her neck. The kids laughed as she tried to 'dance' at the end of a 'rope'. This act fractured her vocal cords and thus, all she could do was 'squeak', so we changed her name.

When she was brought to my home, the first place she headed was under the bed where she stayed for almost a month. That is where she ate, where she drank, where her litter box was put and it was her haven of safety. Every day I would go under the bed a couple of times and just lay and talk to her. It was a joy when she started coming out, and even better when she joined me on the couch for the first time.

She became ghost hunter. She lost so much weight while she stayed under the bed, that she became trim and active. She would be lying next to me and all of a sudden, she would launch off the edge of the couch into the air and shoot through the house. After skidding across the kitchen floor, over the table, to the bedroom, under the bed, hitting the dresser, back over the bed, around the television, she would leap onto the couch next to me ... and lay down to nap.

Sometimes she would wake up long enough to look at the ceiling and utter a low guttural growl, or she would launch her body straight up into the air, only to settle back down and proceed to lick her paws as if nothing had happened.

One time, she ran up the back of my recliner only to perch herself at the very top. She seemed to hover there for a minute, then she started scratching at ... nothing, but I swear it looked like she caught something which she proceeded to 'eat'. Licking her lips, she proudly got down from the top of the recliner, sauntered over to me, only to lay down at my feet and fall asleep.

She was my guardian all her life and kept me safe from the ghosts that invaded our home every once in awhile.

Author Notes
Picture is my ghost hunter.


© Copyright 2011 Barb Hensongispsaca All rights reserved.
Barb Hensongispsaca has granted, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

Be sure to go online at to comment on this.
© 2014, Inc. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Statement