The Farmer’s Wife

2 Nov

There once was a farmer who had a blind wife. The couple lived out in the country with no really close neighbors nearby. They lived in a little, white house with a little, white fence. The farmer and his wife had been together many, many years. The farmer loved his wife very much.

However, the farmer knew that he would not live much longer and so he bought his wife a wonderful dog that would help her after he was gone. He trained the dog to be alert for trouble and to lick his wife’s hand at her bedside at night to assure her that everything was all right. One lick if it was nothing to be concerned about. Two licks for her to beware.

Sadly, the time came when the farmer died and his wife was left alone. But she had the company of the wonderful dog her husband had left her and trained so well. He was gone only a few months when she had to put the dog’s training to the test.

She had just settled down in her bed and closed her eyes. Then she heard a noise. Drip…drip…drip.

She put her hand down next to the bed and the dog licked it once. One lick meant that there was no cause for alarm and it was just an everyday house noise. She settled back into her bed, ready to sleep.

Drip…drip…drip. Down went her hand, and again the dog only licked it once. She sighed.

Drip…drip…drip. One lick. She was not going to get any sleep. It sounded like a leaky faucet.

The farmer’s wife got out of bed and headed in the direction of the sound. Drip…drip…drip.

She felt along the walls towards the bathroom. There she stopped and listened. Drip…drip…drip. The sound was not in there. She turned around and headed for the kitchen. Drip…drip…drip.

The sound was definitely getting closer. She felt her way to the kitchen sink and put her hand under the faucet. Drip…drip…drip. But nothing dripped on her hand. Curious. She listened for the sound again. Drip…drip…drip.

She again headed in the direction of the sound with arms outstretched. Drip…drip…drip. Finally the sound was so near – she was almost there. Drip…drip…drip.

She could feel the drip hitting the floor and splashing whatever liquid onto her foot. She reached out once more and felt fur. Frowning, trying to discern what it could possibly be, she felt a familiar head…a familiar body…the wet, matted fur of her wonderful dog. Her dog was hanging from the doorway that parted the living room and kitchen. It’s blood dripping onto the floor, and now onto her foot. Drip…drip…drip.

Horrified, she screamed in anguish at the loss of her wonderful dog. She stopped short, however when a thought occurred to her.

What was licking her hand?!


Author Unknown – just a ghost story I have been telling for years.

I meant to post this last Friday, but I forgot. Happy belated Halloween!!! Mwah hah hah!

D.M.

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