Speaker 1: My first contact was Sasquatch was when I was twelve
Speaker 1: years old. I was playing in the deep woods one
Speaker 1: hundred yards from my back door. Back in those days,
Speaker 1: there weren't a lot of expensive toys to occupy my time,
Speaker 1: so I was playing army all by myself. I was
Speaker 1: in a location where there was an ovular ovular ovular.
Speaker 1: I can't pronounce that word. I was in a location
Speaker 1: where there was an ovular ovular ring of trees, and
Speaker 1: when they shed their needles, they made an ovular build
Speaker 1: up around their bases. Inside this shape, there was also
Speaker 1: a pile of dried needles that made a nice cushy spot.
Speaker 1: Anybody new to this podcast, there are some words that
Speaker 1: I can't pronounce, so I just throw something out there
Speaker 1: and look for people in the common section to correct me,
Speaker 1: because I know you will. But the word is ov
Speaker 1: u la r ovuler. I think that's maybe that's what
Speaker 1: it is. Anyway, Sorry to get hung up on that.
Speaker 1: Back to the story. I was playing soldier there and
Speaker 1: decided I needed to do a quick hid and cover,
Speaker 1: and I dove into this bed of needles like I
Speaker 1: had many times before, but this time I startled a
Speaker 1: large animal when I landed, something big and heavy took
Speaker 1: off and ran away. It felt like thunder in the ground,
Speaker 1: even on that bed of needles, and I felt every
Speaker 1: step it took vibrating through the earth. I had never
Speaker 1: heard about sasquatch, but at that moment, all I could
Speaker 1: think was that I had snuck up on some kind
Speaker 1: of a giant and then it ran away. My second
Speaker 1: contact was during a hunting trip with my brother. At
Speaker 1: that time, I was thirty years old, and we were
Speaker 1: hunting in the hills of North Goldendale, Washington, near the
Speaker 1: Yakima Indian Reservation border. We had been hunting for about
Speaker 1: an hour when I broke into a large clearing where
Speaker 1: the sun had started to shine. There was a big stump,
Speaker 1: so I sat and leaned against it with my rifle
Speaker 1: in my lap to watch the clearing. But the sun
Speaker 1: was so warm, and I was so tired from working
Speaker 1: the graveyard shift the night before that I soon fell asleep.
Speaker 1: I must have napped for an hour, and when I woke,
Speaker 1: my eyes focused across the clearing at the timberline, and
Speaker 1: there it was a bigfoot in a squatted position, and
Speaker 1: he was studying me as soon as it noticed that
Speaker 1: I was awake. It stood up, and it turned and
Speaker 1: it walked away. I was so stunned that I didn't
Speaker 1: even get up to try to follow it. It was
Speaker 1: two minutes later when my brother called my name and
Speaker 1: asked if I had seen anything. I sure as hell did,
Speaker 1: I felt like saying, but instead I laughed and I
Speaker 1: said I hadn't. The third contact happened while I was
Speaker 1: hunting in the hills of the Columbia River. I was
Speaker 1: watching a ravine that was filled with scrub oak trees.
Speaker 1: It was bushy at the top but open in the ravine.
Speaker 1: I was sitting there and I heard a noise coming
Speaker 1: down the ravine, like an entire herd of deer was
Speaker 1: headed my way. I got ready to pick a target,
Speaker 1: but no deer ever came. Instead, a stampede of gray
Speaker 1: squirrels raced through the treetops like Satan himself was on
Speaker 1: their heels. At one point, when the stampede passed by me,
Speaker 1: there was an intense stinky horse sweat body odor smell
Speaker 1: that filled the area. When the stampede passed me, so
Speaker 1: did the smell. Never saw anything, but I did feel
Speaker 1: like that I was not alone. My fourth contact happened
Speaker 1: when I took my grandson camping on the side of
Speaker 1: mountain near in the White Pass. The first evening, I
Speaker 1: heard a sasquatch call. It was impressive how much air
Speaker 1: of this thing's lungs could load. His below lasted for
Speaker 1: twenty full seconds. I tried to emulate it, but I
Speaker 1: ran out of air after about eight seconds. My fifth
Speaker 1: contact happened when I took my wife camping in the
Speaker 1: White Pass. The first day we were there, we walked
Speaker 1: along the rocky beach of the river that we were
Speaker 1: camping next to. The river. Rock was not easy to
Speaker 1: walk on, but was apparently great for making Okay, here's
Speaker 1: another word, Carns Cairns Cairns. Never heard that word before
Speaker 1: in my life. These are man made piles of flat stones.
Speaker 1: There were two at the time. I added a small
Speaker 1: rock at the top of one stack, and the next
Speaker 1: morning the stacks had all been leveled. I think Bigfoot
Speaker 1: walked through there and said, not today, hippie, y'all seeing
Speaker 1: those videos where people are not those down, I think
Speaker 1: they're funny. The second night we were there, a sasquatch
Speaker 1: came into our camp while we were sleeping, ran a
Speaker 1: finger along the side of our tent, right against my
Speaker 1: wife's back, startled her awake, but she didn't tell me
Speaker 1: until we were home from the camping trip. And the
Speaker 1: sixth and final encounter who six in his life? Unbelievable.
Speaker 1: The sixth and final account encounter was when my wife
Speaker 1: and I were camped in the upper click atat Valley.
Speaker 1: This time I had taken gifts. I had taken silk flowers, marbles,
Speaker 1: a large plastic toy soldier, and a box of apples. Unfortunately,
Speaker 1: I became ill the first night there and decided that
Speaker 1: we needed to sleep in my pickup truck. The apples
Speaker 1: were left in the bed of my pickup truck. My
Speaker 1: wife's little yapper Mutt was along with us, and I
Speaker 1: had the windows down a couple of inches for Fini.
Speaker 1: We heard nothing the entire night, and the dog never
Speaker 1: barked or growled once. But the next morning the entire
Speaker 1: box was gone. The debris on the forest floor prevented
Speaker 1: me from seeing any tracks, but we were the only
Speaker 1: campers for miles. I think a sly bigfoot was laughing
Speaker 1: at us while he ate the apples throughout the night.
Speaker 1: Oh that's a good story. I don't know I guess
Speaker 1: I'm jealous of these people that have encounter after encounter
Speaker 1: after encounter. They see them all the time. I can't
Speaker 1: even see a footprint. I never see anything. What is
Speaker 1: it about me that keeps me from seeing a bigfoot?
Speaker 1: I want to see a bigfoot. Everybody else sees them.
Speaker 1: Everybody that writes me sees them and encounters them, some
Speaker 1: people multiple times through their lives. Not me. I know
Speaker 1: I'm kind of acting like a baby, but I kind
Speaker 1: of feel a little pissed about it. Anyway, I'm glad
Speaker 1: y'all see bigfoot, but I'm not glad. I don't so
Speaker 1: how yak gat? Anyway, this was a very good story,
Speaker 1: well put together, and I appreciate the writers sending it
Speaker 1: because it is very interesting. Thank you. This was an
Speaker 1: ongoing encounter that went on for a month or two.
Speaker 1: This event happened in nineteen ninety four in the Midwest.
Speaker 1: I worked nights doing custodial work, and my family lived
Speaker 1: out in the country. Wasn't all that remote, just a
Speaker 1: rural part of a small town. Each time I arrived
Speaker 1: home and got out of my car after work, I
Speaker 1: started noticing lights in the sky. They seemed lower and
Speaker 1: brighter than the other stars and much closer. It was
Speaker 1: a bright white light, but I also saw blue and
Speaker 1: red flashes with pulsating lights. The light didn't move across
Speaker 1: the sky like an airplane, or I would have just
Speaker 1: assumed that it was that and I would have moved on.
Speaker 1: There were at least two, sometimes up to four of them,
Speaker 1: spaced out in different directions. The lights seemed to be
Speaker 1: observing somehow. When I saw them, it was like they
Speaker 1: moved in closer to me, zooming in on my location.
Speaker 1: They would remain in the same spot for hours and
Speaker 1: then drift away slowly, but sometimes it was as if
Speaker 1: they shut the light off. Stars don't do that. We
Speaker 1: had an outdoor barn light on a pole in the backyard.
Speaker 1: When these lights in the sky appeared, the backyard light
Speaker 1: would get brighter, as if someone was slowly turning up
Speaker 1: the intensity. I noticed that if a car went down
Speaker 1: the road, the light would gradually dim back to normal,
Speaker 1: and then when the car was gone, the light would
Speaker 1: gradually intensify again. The barn light would be so bright
Speaker 1: that it looked like early morning, right before the sun
Speaker 1: came up. When I went inside, every lamp or electronic
Speaker 1: device the stereo, the numbers on the digital alarm clock,
Speaker 1: and anything with the light got more intense, just like
Speaker 1: the barn light, and then would slowly go back to normal.
Speaker 1: The lights would all be in sinc and would all
Speaker 1: do it at the same time. I got an uneasy
Speaker 1: feeling while this went on. I felt like whatever was
Speaker 1: causing this was waiting for me to come home. One night,
Speaker 1: I waited in my car and sunk down in my seat.
Speaker 1: I just waited and watched for the lights to intensify.
Speaker 1: Now this freaked me out, so I waited for the
Speaker 1: lights dim when the car went up the road, and
Speaker 1: then ran for the house and hid behind the recliner
Speaker 1: for a few hours. I did this for several nights.
Speaker 1: Of course, no one else in the house saw anything,
Speaker 1: and I started to think I was losing it. I
Speaker 1: was no longer curious as to what was causing this.
Speaker 1: I just wanted it to go away. I would come
Speaker 1: home and walk in and turn off the lamp my
Speaker 1: family had left on for me, and I'd find my
Speaker 1: way through through the dark. I felt like something or
Speaker 1: someone was looking for me, and paranoia started to set in.
Speaker 1: During this time, I also had trouble sleeping. Several times
Speaker 1: I had sleep paralysis. I'd be in that state in
Speaker 1: between sleep and awaken. I couldn't move my body. The
Speaker 1: only thing I could move was my eyes. I didn't
Speaker 1: see a thing, but I felt this terrible dread and
Speaker 1: uneasiness come over me. I couldn't speak at all, even
Speaker 1: my tongue was numb. Eventually I was able to force
Speaker 1: a word out. If I forced the name of Jesus out,
Speaker 1: it would stop. The light shows seemed to escalate over time.
Speaker 1: One night, while making my way to my bedroom in
Speaker 1: the dark, I walked past the door to my parents' room,
Speaker 1: which was open. Out there window, I saw what looked
Speaker 1: like search lights, like the extremely bright white light you
Speaker 1: see on a police helicopter searching for someone on the
Speaker 1: It was shining the light back and forth across the driveway,
Speaker 1: then the yard, and then into their window. But I
Speaker 1: knew there was no helicopter. There was only a low
Speaker 1: rumble that went on all night, like the gentle rumble
Speaker 1: of an air conditioner kicking on, but deeper and so
Speaker 1: heavy you could feel the vibration of it. I hid
Speaker 1: in my bed until I eventually fell asleep. That next morning,
Speaker 1: after my family had all left for work, I could
Speaker 1: still hear that low rumble. After a while, whatever it
Speaker 1: was finally left and the rumbling sound drifted above the clouds.
Speaker 1: I saw nothing outside, but I had the TV on
Speaker 1: the morning news, and while I was watching out the
Speaker 1: screen door, the TV turned off. Well that was it
Speaker 1: for me. I was totally freaked out, and I drove
Speaker 1: to my boyfriend's apartment that weekend. While hanging out with him,
Speaker 1: I swore I still heard the low rumble above the
Speaker 1: clouds above apartment, as if it was following me. I
Speaker 1: was a basket case for a while. One morning, my
Speaker 1: mother got up and found me crouched behind the reclining
Speaker 1: chair hiding from the lights. Eventually I had to start
Speaker 1: ignoring the blinking lights in the sky or I was
Speaker 1: going to be committed. I have no doubt about that.
Speaker 1: I started going inside when I got home, not looking up,
Speaker 1: and straight to bed or doing sit ups until I
Speaker 1: was so exhausted and I had to go to sleep.
Speaker 1: To my relief, my then boyfriend and now husband saw
Speaker 1: the lights too. One time, he flipped one off from
Speaker 1: his car while he was driving, and in front of
Speaker 1: our eyes it literally shut off. We both saw that happen.
Speaker 1: Even today, I occasionally noticed the blinking lights every now
Speaker 1: and then, but I ignore them. I live in a
Speaker 1: different state. Now, I decided it was not just me.
Speaker 1: They were watching and observing. They were waiting for someone
Speaker 1: to notice them. My husband is the only other person
Speaker 1: who has heard this entire story. I didn't dare share
Speaker 1: all of it with others, and we all know why.
Speaker 1: Oh wow, that's kind of scary. I'm assuming she shared
Speaker 1: the whole story with us. I've heard of stories like this.
Speaker 1: I've gotten stories like this where people are just tormented
Speaker 1: by something and they never know what it was. My
Speaker 1: thought and always goes to well, like she said, I'm
Speaker 1: just repeating what she said. I'm not accusing her of
Speaker 1: this or diagnosing this problem that she was just paranoid.
Speaker 1: But this letter seems perfectly legible. It doesn't wander all
Speaker 1: over the place. Seems like a person who has their
Speaker 1: thoughts together and that who knows what they saw. It's scary.
Speaker 1: I'm glad to find out that this is eased up
Speaker 1: quite a bit. A lot of people will say, you've
Speaker 1: probably been visited by whatever these things are, and you know,
Speaker 1: the longer time goes on, the more evidence. We just
Speaker 1: saw videos on the news of some kind of craft
Speaker 1: flying over the top of the ocean and the I
Speaker 1: can't even remember where it was, somewhere in the Middle East.
Speaker 1: I think I believe the Americans shot a hellfire missile
Speaker 1: at it and hit it, and the missile just like
Speaker 1: either went through it and a couple of three little
Speaker 1: pieces broke off of this whatever this UFO was, but
Speaker 1: they didn't fall in the water. They just kept going
Speaker 1: with the craft. I know hundreds of people have seen
Speaker 1: this video, and I don't even know if you haven't
Speaker 1: seen it, what to tell you to search for. I
Speaker 1: just kind of flipped through these shorts a lot of
Speaker 1: times and it popped up, and I thought, man, that's crazy. Anyway,
Speaker 1: here's what I'm getting at. This stuff is becoming more
Speaker 1: and more and more evidence, much more than Bigfoot. There's
Speaker 1: one hundred times more evidence for paranormal beings from another realm,
Speaker 1: another planet. There's one hundred times more evidence of that
Speaker 1: than there is for Bigfoot. And people aren't interested, at
Speaker 1: least on this channel as much as in these UFO stories.
Speaker 1: But it really intrigues me because it seems more real
Speaker 1: because there's more evidence. And I know people say, hell,
Speaker 1: there's pictures and videos of Bigfoot all over the place.
Speaker 1: Ninety nine percent of are hoaxes, and they're obviously hoaxes.
Speaker 1: But this stuff, right hear, these lights and these crafts
Speaker 1: flying around and under the ocean, in the ocean, we
Speaker 1: got videos of all these things by military. The people
Speaker 1: in the federal government are coming out and saying it's real.
Speaker 1: It's everywhere. So what is all this stuff? Some people
Speaker 1: say it's demonic. Can't Why would a demon you a
Speaker 1: UFO to try it? Just doesn't None of that make sense.
Speaker 1: I'm not saying I know what it is, but I'm
Speaker 1: saying there's a lot of stuff. If you just use
Speaker 1: critical thinking skills, you can rule out a lot of
Speaker 1: things that people think it is. This was an interesting story,
Speaker 1: and I'm glad to hear that she is doing better
Speaker 1: and not as tormented as she was. Thank you for
Speaker 1: sharing the whole story. I assume it's the whole story.
Speaker 1: Thank you for sharing it with us. Thank you to
Speaker 1: the writer. In two thousand and two, I was freshly divorced.
Speaker 1: I had very little money, and the time I spent
Speaker 1: with my children was precious. I wound up doing a
Speaker 1: lot of things outdoors in order to tire them out
Speaker 1: and get them away from their computers. My kids had
Speaker 1: a limited time to spend in the hot weather of
Speaker 1: central Florida, so I used to take them for bike
Speaker 1: rides at the local park. One time, we were two
Speaker 1: miles into the park on our bikes when my daughter
Speaker 1: started sobbing and yelling are we going now? Daddy? Can
Speaker 1: we go now? She kept it up until we turned
Speaker 1: around and headed back to the parking lot. My son
Speaker 1: and I were concerned and a bit overheated, but we
Speaker 1: still giggled at her with her theatrical shouts. I was
Speaker 1: a bit upset to end the ride so early, but
Speaker 1: looking back, who knows what was really going on or
Speaker 1: if she had seen something that scared her. In twenty fifteen,
Speaker 1: I was riding my bike alone in the same part,
Speaker 1: enjoying being outdoors and having the place to myself. An
Speaker 1: hour into my ride, I had gotten about six miles
Speaker 1: in when the rain shower started. I was peddling through
Speaker 1: sugar sand and it was burning the heck out of
Speaker 1: my legs, so I decided to get off my bike
Speaker 1: and walk instead. I got to a place that I
Speaker 1: had passed on the way in. It was off the
Speaker 1: beaten path and had legs and swamps and a clear
Speaker 1: path along the power lines. I decided to leave my
Speaker 1: bike and look around the swamps and the wetland for
Speaker 1: a bit. The rain was tapering off, but it was steady,
Speaker 1: and it made the whole area look like it was
Speaker 1: in the shadows. To my left or swamps, and on
Speaker 1: my right was a saturated open field that led to
Speaker 1: the lake, with a power line in between the two.
Speaker 1: I walked along the power line path and I heard
Speaker 1: the distinct sound of something plunking away at bicycle spokes.
Speaker 1: It's a metallic sound that I knew from my children's
Speaker 1: bikes and mine when I was a kid. The sound
Speaker 1: stopped about twenty five feet from me, right where I
Speaker 1: had left my bike, and I stopped walking. There was
Speaker 1: no other sound but the rain. In Florida, if you're
Speaker 1: near the swamps, there always seems to be frogs and
Speaker 1: other critters making a fuss, but at that moment, there
Speaker 1: was nothing. I stood there for a moment listening, and
Speaker 1: I heard someone whisper was almost unintelligible. It sounded like
Speaker 1: a little girl's voice talking to someone. She was asking
Speaker 1: a question. Now I was confused. I was not in
Speaker 1: a place where a child should be, and even if
Speaker 1: there were other people, I would have seen them. I
Speaker 1: waited another moment, and then I said hello again. I
Speaker 1: heard more whispers from this little girl's voice. This time
Speaker 1: I heard her clearly, and she asked, when are we
Speaker 1: going to leave? I was really confused. I couldn't see anything.
Speaker 1: The voice was coming from directly in front of me,
Speaker 1: but there was nothing there. It was just a little
Speaker 1: girl's distressed voice, pleading to go home. I'm always comfortable
Speaker 1: in the forest, but I was starting to get a
Speaker 1: bit freaked out. And then the girl's voice screamed, are
Speaker 1: we going home now? Daddy? The end of her sentence
Speaker 1: built up to a high pitched scream that made my
Speaker 1: gut hurt. I was stunned and scared. My first instinct
Speaker 1: was to get the heck out of there, but for
Speaker 1: some reason, my mouth betrayed me, and again I said hello.
Speaker 1: I took a step forward and betrayed my feet. This time,
Speaker 1: whatever was with me in the woods shot away from
Speaker 1: me at a speed that was supernatural, like it had
Speaker 1: been attached to a cable and was being pulled away,
Speaker 1: shooting across the wet, boggy Florida wetlands. I stood there
Speaker 1: with my head reeling, thinking I was about to throw up.
Speaker 1: I stayed where I was for ten minutes, collecting my
Speaker 1: thoughts about what I had just experienced. I had seen
Speaker 1: nothing but the voice and the scream and the metallic
Speaker 1: sound of the bicycle spokes were stuck in my head.
Speaker 1: I eventually gathered myself and headed to the parking lot
Speaker 1: without any other incident. Oh man, that's kind of spooky.
Speaker 1: I don't know. This may sound weird, but it's kind
Speaker 1: of intriguing to me. I don't think there was anything
Speaker 1: there that he felt was after him, but he was.
Speaker 1: I don't know. What do you guys think? What was
Speaker 1: he hearing? A lot of people say ghosts or demonic
Speaker 1: I tend to go that route. I don't. I'm a
Speaker 1: Bible believer, and I believe, you know, we're either here
Speaker 1: or we're with the Lord and the only thing left
Speaker 1: on earth or living humans and demons. And I don't know.
Speaker 1: I could be wrong about all that. I don't make
Speaker 1: real y'all know, I never talk about spiritual stuff or
Speaker 1: political stuff too much. Never political stuff. Good Lord, man,
Speaker 1: what a world we live in with this political junk,
Speaker 1: but this supernatural stuff, spiritual stuff. Sometimes it perplexes me.
Speaker 1: And I was talking to my wife the other day
Speaker 1: about it was nothing about this, but what I've learned
Speaker 1: in my life is that usually with big problems or
Speaker 1: big incidents, there's always the one thing. People try to
Speaker 1: complicate it and spread it out and make it about
Speaker 1: a bunch of things. It's usually the one thing. But
Speaker 1: here's what I'm getting at. I think the one things
Speaker 1: the one thing is in these type situations is that
Speaker 1: it's probably a demonic presence somewhere that you've encountered. It's
Speaker 1: just my opinion. I'm not making a categorical statement or
Speaker 1: a singular statement. That's just what I think it is.
Speaker 1: And it kind of goes along with my one thing theory.
Speaker 1: There's always that one thing. Anyway, I thought i'd share
Speaker 1: my thoughts with you on that. I'm not sure why
Speaker 1: I did, but I just kind of popped in my head,
Speaker 1: so I thought i'd say it. So there you go.
Speaker 1: Thank you to the writer for sending the story. It
Speaker 1: was really good, really good, kind of spooky, but very intriguing.
Speaker 1: Thank you. I grew up in the wild and wonderful
Speaker 1: state of West by God, Virginia. Now I live in Kentucky,
Speaker 1: just across the Big Sandy River. I don't know if
Speaker 1: I believe in cryptids, aliens, or anything ghost related, but
Speaker 1: I am one hundred percent sure that I believe in
Speaker 1: shadow people because I encountered one when I was eight
Speaker 1: years old. This happened in a small town in West
Speaker 1: Virginia named Fort Gay and Wayne County. We lived in
Speaker 1: an old, two bedroom, one bath house rented to my
Speaker 1: family by a man named Frank. He owned dozens of
Speaker 1: rental homes and hundreds of acres of property in our
Speaker 1: little town. According to several neighbors and other town residents.
Speaker 1: In the nineteen fifties, Frank used our house to meet
Speaker 1: with some other men in town to drink, gamble, and
Speaker 1: do things that were publicly frowned upon back in those
Speaker 1: days in a small religious town. One night, back in
Speaker 1: the nineteen sixties, Frank and his friends were drinking and
Speaker 1: playing poker. Someone accused another of cheating at cards. Tempers flared,
Speaker 1: somebody pulled a gun and blew a man's brains out
Speaker 1: right there in that very house. My big sister and
Speaker 1: I had to share the second bedroom, which wasn't a
Speaker 1: problem since we were just little kids at the time.
Speaker 1: My aunt and uncle hadn't seen our new place yet
Speaker 1: and they were coming to spend the weekend with us
Speaker 1: in the new house. My mom set up our room
Speaker 1: for them, and that meant one of us had to
Speaker 1: sleep on the couch and the other got to sleep
Speaker 1: with Mom and dad. I don't know if you remember
Speaker 1: sleeping with your parents at this age, but I absolutely
Speaker 1: dreaded it. Always got stuck between them and got pinned
Speaker 1: down by the covers. Plus I had to listen to
Speaker 1: my dad's snoring and sleep talking. I had been lying
Speaker 1: in bed with them for about an hour or so.
Speaker 1: My parents were already fast asleep, and the house was
Speaker 1: dead quiet. I was burning up under those covers as usual,
Speaker 1: and I was wishing like crazy. I had used the
Speaker 1: bathroom before I went to bed, because my eyeballs were floating.
Speaker 1: I dreaded going because I knew I had to crawl
Speaker 1: over one of my parents and take the chance of
Speaker 1: waking my dad, who was definitely not someone you wanted
Speaker 1: to disturb out of a deep sleep. I decided my
Speaker 1: best option was to dig out from under the covers
Speaker 1: and crawl over my mother. What happened after that was
Speaker 1: a pure nightmare, fuel especially for an eight year old kid.
Speaker 1: I began the task of trying to get over my
Speaker 1: mother without making too much noise and avoiding waking my
Speaker 1: dad at all costs. I had my right leg flung
Speaker 1: over my mom, looking for the floor with my toes,
Speaker 1: and holding onto the bedpost with my left arm, when
Speaker 1: all of a sudden, the worst most hair raising feeling
Speaker 1: came over me and went up and down my spine.
Speaker 1: Every hair on my neck and body stood on end.
Speaker 1: I could feel a presence behind me at the bedroom doorway,
Speaker 1: and I could feel something was there and that its
Speaker 1: eyes were on me. My mind started racing and my
Speaker 1: heart started pounding, and I was completely frozen in that
Speaker 1: awkward position. I didn't want to, but I knew I
Speaker 1: had to look at the dark doorway. I turned my head,
Speaker 1: praying that it would be just my sister. I couldn't
Speaker 1: have been more wrong. I can only describe it as
Speaker 1: a shadow person. It had the basic form and size
Speaker 1: of a human, but it was featureless. It had no
Speaker 1: discernible face. When I say it was black, I mean
Speaker 1: it was darker than the darkest corners of the room.
Speaker 1: It was highlighted by the hallway light that my mom
Speaker 1: had left on for anyone who might get up in
Speaker 1: the middle of the night, which made it seem even darker.
Speaker 1: It was a shadow, but deeper and darker than a shadow,
Speaker 1: like black silk or a black hole. Many people who
Speaker 1: suffer from a CONDUCTIONH call sleep paralysis often report seeing
Speaker 1: a shadowy man they called the hat man. This thing
Speaker 1: did seem to be wearing a hat, but I was
Speaker 1: completely awake, and this was not a case of sleep paralysis.
Speaker 1: This thing didn't move or speak a word. It was
Speaker 1: just standing there, peeking around the doorway at me. To
Speaker 1: say that I almost had a heart attack would be
Speaker 1: a severe understatement. I didn't know what to do. Should
Speaker 1: I scream and wake my parents in hopes they would
Speaker 1: see what I'm seeing? No? Instead, I slowly slipped back
Speaker 1: over my mother, and I slid under the covers and
Speaker 1: I pulled them completely over my head. I didn't dare
Speaker 1: peek out or try to look at this thing again.
Speaker 1: I just knew if I pull those covers down, that
Speaker 1: thing would be closer right at the foot of the bed,
Speaker 1: or worse, face to face with me. At this point,
Speaker 1: I completely forgot about needing to go to the bathroom,
Speaker 1: and honestly, I don't know how, oh I didn't wet
Speaker 1: myself After I saw what I saw. I was stuck
Speaker 1: there under the covers, afraid to move, afraid to look again,
Speaker 1: heart pounding in fear. I don't know when, but at
Speaker 1: some point I must have finally fallen asleep, probably out
Speaker 1: of exhaustion. When I woke up, that experience and the
Speaker 1: fear of it were still fresh on my mind. Now.
Speaker 1: I could hear my parents, sister, my aunt in the
Speaker 1: kitchen getting breakfast ready, and I was glad I was
Speaker 1: still alive to wake up at all. I jumped out
Speaker 1: of bed and ran with all I had to the
Speaker 1: safety of my family in the kitchen, and I told
Speaker 1: my parents everything. Of course, they chalked it up to
Speaker 1: a bad dream by a kid with a wild imagination.
Speaker 1: We lived in that house for four years, and everyone
Speaker 1: in my family would eventually go on to have weird experiences,
Speaker 1: which are stories for another day. Something about that old,
Speaker 1: creepy house just never did feel right to me. I
Speaker 1: believe something evil was living there. I'm an adult man,
Speaker 1: I'm a husband and a father now. But I will
Speaker 1: swear to my grave that this was real and was
Speaker 1: not a dream or my imagination. I've never had anything
Speaker 1: like that happen to me since, and I pray that
Speaker 1: it never does again. I wouldn't wish something like that
Speaker 1: on anyone, not even on my worst enemy. Oh what
Speaker 1: a great story. Man. I didn't read this. I zip
Speaker 1: a lot of these up and I send these to
Speaker 1: Rebecca and Rebecca Lee Wesson, who, by the way, is
Speaker 1: a great author and has books out on Amazon. Look
Speaker 1: up for Rebecca Lee Wesson. She's editing all these stories
Speaker 1: that you hear. But what I was going to say is,
Speaker 1: I don't know if this guy wrote this this well
Speaker 1: or or if Rebecca put her magic on it. But man,
Speaker 1: it was just so fun to read and so well
Speaker 1: put together. I don't know. It's probably not going to
Speaker 1: go down in historical literature by any stretch. But sometimes
Speaker 1: the stories are great, but the way they're written is, oh, man,
Speaker 1: it just sets them off. He doesn't say whether to
Speaker 1: give his name or not, but he lives in Kentucky,
Speaker 1: born in West Virginia. I got this story a while back.
Speaker 1: I hope he hears this because man, what a great story.
Speaker 1: Thank you so much for sending this. If anybody else
Speaker 1: has stories about the paranormal or whatever, I have a
Speaker 1: lot of them to do right now. I've just got
Speaker 1: a big backlog. But if you send me a really
Speaker 1: good one, I'm liable to pull it up and just
Speaker 1: do it right away. So I really appreciate you all
Speaker 1: sending these stories. They're so fun to read, and anyway,
Speaker 1: I appreciate it. Thanks to the writer Ghost of Tula
Speaker 1: by Shane Brown. I remember being a little kid and
Speaker 1: Mama walking around videoing anything and everything she could. She
Speaker 1: would use that camera all day. She said that she
Speaker 1: never had anything that neat before. I think she believed
Speaker 1: that she would have each moment forever. When she hit
Speaker 1: the record button. That camera was huge and it hurt
Speaker 1: your shoulder to hold it propped up for a minute.
Speaker 1: I guess it didn't bother her. She gleamed with it.
Speaker 1: She was getting something new and recording her babies. Recently,
Speaker 1: I watched a video of us at my grandmother's house
Speaker 1: having lunch one day. Leanne and Billy Ray were fighting
Speaker 1: while Mama was in the background frying chicken and bacon biscuits.
Speaker 1: Dad was leaned back in a chair, watching everyone. Mama
Speaker 1: threw the camera on him and asked him about the
Speaker 1: ghost story from a call he got the night before
Speaker 1: while he was on duty at the fire station. A
Speaker 1: dad was wearing a navy blue Firebuster shirt, and he
Speaker 1: leaned his head down and his eyes got big. He
Speaker 1: twisted the sides of his ear with a finger and
Speaker 1: a thumb as he chuckled. Then he shivered. He told
Speaker 1: the story of what he saw that night on a call.
Speaker 1: I don't believe him as surely as I study every
Speaker 1: word that he said. I didn't believe in ghosts at
Speaker 1: nine years old. Now Webster says that ghosts are the
Speaker 1: soul of a dead person, thought of his living in
Speaker 1: an unseen world or his appearing to the living people.
Speaker 1: Webster can't describe what I know, but he is close.
Speaker 1: Maybe Webster is telling me I know a soul that
Speaker 1: still lives that it's appearing to me. I think I
Speaker 1: know his feelings too. From spending time at Tula, I'm
Speaker 1: starting to know instead of only wondering. At forty three,
Speaker 1: I don't know if I truly believe in ghosts yet
Speaker 1: or not. I've never seen one. I have never considered
Speaker 1: for one second that my eyes witnessed a ghostly motion.
Speaker 1: But I feel things. I wonder if ghosts can make
Speaker 1: you feel things. If they can, then I believe in them.
Speaker 1: That's something that happens to me often, especially at Tula
Speaker 1: or somewhere my father frequented. I am sitting on the
Speaker 1: docks of Tula right now, and it's almost haunting. Not
Speaker 1: a scary haunting, but a gut wrenching one. Crickets are calling,
Speaker 1: and the bullfrogs are loud. They echo off the trees
Speaker 1: and through my body. There's a white cloud of fogs
Speaker 1: sitting on this pond as its glow dances from the moonlight.
Speaker 1: The moon's cast is wrapped in a fog, which shows
Speaker 1: the pond's general shape. The moon's light runs about six
Speaker 1: or seven feet to the bank and up the trees
Speaker 1: into their tops as it shines up the back end
Speaker 1: of the sky. The white fog just sits in a gloom.
Speaker 1: It doesn't move, and neither do I. There's a presence here,
Speaker 1: present makes me want to write stories. Maybe this is
Speaker 1: the presence that makes me want to be like my dad.
Speaker 1: I'm not for sure yet, but I like both of
Speaker 1: those thoughts. I know I'll never be the writer that
Speaker 1: he was. I'm okay with that, But if I can
Speaker 1: be a writer with a connection to him, that it's
Speaker 1: all worth the sacrifice. There's a presence over me and
Speaker 1: under me. I feel it in both of my sides too.
Speaker 1: It's the truck I got to pick out from my
Speaker 1: dad one day when he said he wanted to pick
Speaker 1: up with air conditioning, a CD player and powered windows,
Speaker 1: as he sent me in mom to Tupelo to buy it.
Speaker 1: It's the presence that I feel when I'm asleep at
Speaker 1: the old tool of store he owned that's been renovated
Speaker 1: into an apartment. It's the store he wrote about in Joe,
Speaker 1: where the protagonist would pick up his workers. But the
Speaker 1: feeling down on the pond at Tula is more powerful
Speaker 1: than any I've ever felt. It's a feeling where I
Speaker 1: start to believe in ghosts. I don't see it, but
Speaker 1: I believe it. All Right, here's the story I got.
Speaker 1: I'm gonna call this fiction because it just feels like
Speaker 1: it's fiction, but I guess it could be true. The
Speaker 1: writer did not say if it's true, and I'm calling
Speaker 1: it fiction, and the writer gets upset with me, just don't.
Speaker 1: It just just feels fictiony the way it's written and
Speaker 1: the story in itself. However, it's a really good story,
Speaker 1: so let's duteous. Nineteen months ago, I awoke from a coma,
Speaker 1: unable to move, speak, or even see what was happening
Speaker 1: around me. I had a vague awareness of who I was.
Speaker 1: I had a family, a job, a portfolio, and a name.
Speaker 1: I knew something terrible had happened to me, but I
Speaker 1: couldn't remember what it was. I remember remembered the frantic
Speaker 1: and helpless sensation of trying to escape and then being
Speaker 1: thrown through the air. I remembered a great crippling fear,
Speaker 1: but the details were beyond me. I searched the darkness
Speaker 1: in my head, but it was useless, like looking through
Speaker 1: foggy glass. I knew the facts of my life and
Speaker 1: what had happened to me were on the other side,
Speaker 1: but I couldn't see them. I couldn't see them yet.
Speaker 1: I could hear the voices in the distance, and the
Speaker 1: footsteps approaching and fading away, and I could hear the
Speaker 1: slow beep of a heart monitor as it started to
Speaker 1: pick up speed. The footsteps approached me again, and they
Speaker 1: ran away, summoning a doctor and a team. He's away,
Speaker 1: Get the team here, a woman said in an excited voice.
Speaker 1: There were multiple footsteps in the room now, each set
Speaker 1: hurried and shuffling around the bed. The team was talking
Speaker 1: about me in hush voices, though I didn't understand the
Speaker 1: medical terms they used. One of them was instructed to
Speaker 1: notify my family, Jonathan, I remembered my name was Jonathan.
Speaker 1: That felt like a wind. It was a minuscule maybe,
Speaker 1: but a win. Nonetheless, the sudden burst of energy after
Speaker 1: what felt like an endless idle rest put a strain
Speaker 1: on me, and I fell back to sleep. And when
Speaker 1: I woke, I heard hush voices again. This time I
Speaker 1: recognized one of them. It was my wife. Her name
Speaker 1: was Madison. That's another win, I told myself. She was
Speaker 1: reading from the Book of Proverbs. I fell in love
Speaker 1: with her all over again. It was the voice I
Speaker 1: needed to hear. My eyes opened in the room erupted
Speaker 1: in excitement. I could make out colors and the details
Speaker 1: of my surroundings. I was unable to move my head,
Speaker 1: but able to turn my line of sight. I could
Speaker 1: see a woman to my right, and I studied her
Speaker 1: features and her long gray hair and her familiar smile.
Speaker 1: It was my Madison. She was older. Now now I
Speaker 1: was confused. A young man and two younger women stood
Speaker 1: beside her, one of them holding a baby. They were
Speaker 1: my children, but they had grown one at a time.
Speaker 1: They came to the bedside and hugged me. They told
Speaker 1: me they loved me, and they missed me. I realized
Speaker 1: then that I must have been in a coma for
Speaker 1: some time and kept alive by machines. But for how long.
Speaker 1: I had no clue. My family had grown up without me,
Speaker 1: and the realization was overwhelming, and I had a thousand questions.
Speaker 1: This routine went on for days, deep sleep for hours,
Speaker 1: and awake for a few minutes. Day in and day out,
Speaker 1: the medical team would tug on my leg and bend it,
Speaker 1: shine a flashlight in my eyes, and stick needles in
Speaker 1: my right foot and fingers. There was a brace around
Speaker 1: my neck and back, preventing me from moving, and at
Speaker 1: one point the doctors told me that my left leg
Speaker 1: had been so severely damaged they had had to remove
Speaker 1: it to save my life. Well. I was devastated. The
Speaker 1: realization about my leg sparked something in me, like an
Speaker 1: approaching siren. I had a memory, not in images, but
Speaker 1: in sound. It was a roar, and it terrified and
Speaker 1: confused me. It was real. It was too real, like
Speaker 1: it approached, and it faded back into the darkness of
Speaker 1: my mind. I hoped it would stay there. That was
Speaker 1: wishful thinking. I would soon find out. My improvement was
Speaker 1: marked by tiny daily successes, and in time I gathered
Speaker 1: enough air in my lungs to push out the words
Speaker 1: thank you to Madison. Within a minute, the room was
Speaker 1: filled with medical personnel checking my statistics, and soon my
Speaker 1: hands and right leg regained feeling and to move them,
Speaker 1: and I finally could speak fluently again. Communication with my
Speaker 1: wife was what I wanted the most. I learned I
Speaker 1: had been comatose for five years and four months. Brain
Speaker 1: trauma was the cause, and I was lucky to be
Speaker 1: alive at all. Five years had gone by. I had
Speaker 1: been gone all that time. My son Nathan was now
Speaker 1: seventeen and in his junior year of high school. He
Speaker 1: was playing football and he was quite good at it.
Speaker 1: My daughter Susie was a mother and in college, while
Speaker 1: my youngest daughter, Brittany was twelve years old. I had
Speaker 1: missed so much, and I hadn't seen my son playball,
Speaker 1: I didn't walk my daughter down the aisle, and I
Speaker 1: had missed my grandchild's birth. I missed BRIT's first days
Speaker 1: of school. By then I remembered who I was. I
Speaker 1: was a Harvard graduate with a PhD in business, a
Speaker 1: chief financial officer for a fortune five hundred company. We
Speaker 1: had a home in Upstate, New York, a penthouse apartment
Speaker 1: in New York City, and a vacation home in the Keys.
Speaker 1: My wife broke the news to me that my life
Speaker 1: as I remembered it was over. I had lost my job.
Speaker 1: My family was forced to sell our house up state
Speaker 1: and the wood in the Keys. They kept the penthouse
Speaker 1: in the city and sub leased it to a guy
Speaker 1: who took over my position at work. They had moved
Speaker 1: to North Carolina and had been living off our life savings.
Speaker 1: At one point, two gentlemen came to see me, one
Speaker 1: from the Forestry Department and the other from the police department.
Speaker 1: They asked me questions for hours about what happened and
Speaker 1: what I remembered. I couldn't recall anything from the incident.
Speaker 1: They showed me pictures of a campsite that had been ravaged,
Speaker 1: a tenth that was torn to pieces, and a backpack
Speaker 1: with a metal frame bent completely in half. They presented
Speaker 1: photographs taken by the hikers who found me. The picture
Speaker 1: showed me in a blood soaked sweatshirt and my head
Speaker 1: looking like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. There
Speaker 1: were other pictures of me from when I arrived at
Speaker 1: the hospital, my chest and my shoulder full of strange
Speaker 1: scratches and scars. I had four deep lacerations on my chest,
Speaker 1: spaced two inches apart, and one deep laceration on the
Speaker 1: back of my shoulder below my neck. A photograph of
Speaker 1: my left leg had multiple lacerations, as if something massive
Speaker 1: had grabbed onto it and sunk its claws through the
Speaker 1: skin and muscle. I looked at the pictures objectively, having
Speaker 1: no recollection of any of this, nor any explanation for
Speaker 1: how it happened. After over a year of therapy, both
Speaker 1: mental and physical, I was sent home. It wasn't my
Speaker 1: home though. It was a small place and a quiet
Speaker 1: subdivision with no sidewalks, But there was a porch where
Speaker 1: I could sit and read and look at pictures of
Speaker 1: my family and see what I had missed over the
Speaker 1: last five years while I tried to get my mind
Speaker 1: in better shape. We attended most of my son's football
Speaker 1: games during his senior year, and I got to see
Speaker 1: him take his girlfriend a homecoming. My life was coming
Speaker 1: back together. My walking improved with the prosthetic leg I
Speaker 1: had been fitted with, and I was working on my
Speaker 1: dance moves for Brittany's father daughter dance at school. When
Speaker 1: Thanksgiving rolled around, my brother in law, Jeremy, came to
Speaker 1: visit us. He burst into tears and apologies when he
Speaker 1: saw me. I had to sit down. Seeing his face
Speaker 1: brought back a float of memories. I should have been there,
Speaker 1: I should have stayed, he said, over and over again.
Speaker 1: You had to go home, I said, suddenly remembering he
Speaker 1: and I had planned a week long vacation to hike
Speaker 1: a section of the Appalachian Trail, with the goal of
Speaker 1: completing the entire trail within the next several years. We
Speaker 1: left my car at the end where we would finish
Speaker 1: our trek and took his car to the trailhead where
Speaker 1: we would begin. We arrived late the first evening, just
Speaker 1: a half hour before dark, and decided to put some
Speaker 1: miles on the boots before we called it a night.
Speaker 1: We hiked several hours before setting up camp and turning in,
Speaker 1: and we slept like two tired puppies before the sun's
Speaker 1: light and singing birds woke us up. The next morning.
Speaker 1: We planned to hike sixteen to twenty miles that day
Speaker 1: and had one hell of a pace going. The beauty
Speaker 1: was breathtaking, and the birds were singing, and the deer
Speaker 1: were plentiful and unbothered by our presence. As evening approached,
Speaker 1: the sounds of nature began to die down, and the
Speaker 1: satisfaction we had from our hard work that day slowly
Speaker 1: gave way to an unsettling awareness that we were not alone.
Speaker 1: Something was stalking us in the woods. We called out
Speaker 1: that we were armed, though we didn't have anything other
Speaker 1: than pocket knives and hatchets. We decided that it must
Speaker 1: have been a couple of locals with a shine operation
Speaker 1: or a marijuana grove nearby, and we were being chaperoned.
Speaker 1: We stopped for the night and pitched our tent, wondering
Speaker 1: if our chaperones had gone home or if they had
Speaker 1: stayed nearby to patrol through the night. As we settled in,
Speaker 1: small pebbles began to hit our tent, and we did
Speaker 1: our best to ignore it and we tried to sleep.
Speaker 1: The next morning, Jeremy got a call that his mother
Speaker 1: had been rushed to the hospital. I told him to
Speaker 1: head on back and that I would continue onto my
Speaker 1: car so he wouldn't have to backtrack and waste time.
Speaker 1: He tore down the trail like a cat with its
Speaker 1: tail on fire, and I packed up and headed out
Speaker 1: in the other direction. The better part of the day
Speaker 1: was uneventful, with no sign of our chaperones from the
Speaker 1: night before, but later that evening they came back. I
Speaker 1: remembered walking to the last possible minute before pitching my
Speaker 1: tent and climbing into sleep. After that, there was nothing.
Speaker 1: My next memory was waking up in the hospital. Over
Speaker 1: the next several months, I spent countless hours browsing the
Speaker 1: TV and the Internet for anything that sparked my interest,
Speaker 1: as I had more time than anything else. I stumbled
Speaker 1: upon a Bigfoot documentary and found it to be very
Speaker 1: interesting until they played a recording of the creature's roar.
Speaker 1: I felt my knees bend to my chest and I
Speaker 1: lay sideways on the couch, holding myself like a terrified child,
Speaker 1: and then I remembered everything. I had just climbed into
Speaker 1: my sleeping bag when rocks were pelted into the side
Speaker 1: of the tent again. I was growing frustrated at the
Speaker 1: thought of losing another night of sleep to the locals
Speaker 1: and their pranks. They poked the side of the tent,
Speaker 1: even touching my arm or time or two, and they
Speaker 1: prodded me through the side of the tent. I could
Speaker 1: see a figure standing in the moonlight. By then, I
Speaker 1: was fed up. I wanted to teach those clowns a lesson,
Speaker 1: so I grabbed my hatchet. When one of them prodded
Speaker 1: me again, I swung it with all my might. I
Speaker 1: struck his hand with the backside of the hatchet. I
Speaker 1: realized that whatever had been pestering me was not human.
Speaker 1: It roared like a freight train, and it grabbed the
Speaker 1: tent and it ripped it out from over the top
Speaker 1: of me. I jumped to my feet, ready to bolt
Speaker 1: down the trail, but something grabbed me by the shoulder
Speaker 1: and leg and lifted me above its head. And then,
Speaker 1: with the force of a car crash, I was thrown
Speaker 1: against a tree on the other side of the trail,
Speaker 1: and everything went black. I have no idea what attacked
Speaker 1: me or why. I have my suspicions, but I have
Speaker 1: no evidence. Part of me wished I didn't remember what
Speaker 1: happened along for the time when the details were beyond me,
Speaker 1: when I was in the dark, and when the facts
Speaker 1: of my life and what had happened to me were
Speaker 1: on the other side of the foggy glass. But now
Speaker 1: I could see clearly something terrible had happened to me.
Speaker 1: Lying there on the couch in the safety of our
Speaker 1: new home, I felt the frantic and helpless sensation of
Speaker 1: trying to escape. I relived the fear, the great crippling fear,
Speaker 1: and I knew that my nineteen month old recovery was
Speaker 1: only just the beginning. How about we wind this podcast
Speaker 1: down with a dog story. I asked for them a
Speaker 1: couple of months ago, and I've got six or eight
Speaker 1: that people have sent. I've done one, I've got a
Speaker 1: few to do, and I'm going to just drop them
Speaker 1: in periodically in a podcast, and then after this story,
Speaker 1: I'm going to put two archives at the end of
Speaker 1: this to give the video a little more length and
Speaker 1: for people who haven't heard these stories to enjoy. So
Speaker 1: let's get into this dog story. I really like this one.
Speaker 1: I'm a cat lover, but I've enjoyed the company of
Speaker 1: more dogs than cats in my life, some of the
Speaker 1: best friendships anyone can ever enjoy, or with the pups
Speaker 1: and kitties that'll allow us to come near. My first
Speaker 1: love was a hound dog named Joe. He was dark
Speaker 1: brown with black markings. My mom called him Hines fifty seven.
Speaker 1: That meant he was a mutt. In all these years,
Speaker 1: I've never forgotten Joe, and I've often used his name
Speaker 1: to answer the old question, which was your favorite pet?
Speaker 1: I love that dog, and I can remember hugging his neck,
Speaker 1: But he used to infuriate me because he wouldn't allow
Speaker 1: me to go down the driveway to the street. If
Speaker 1: I started toward the street, he stood sideways in front
Speaker 1: of me, and if I tried to move around him,
Speaker 1: he just moved with me. Eventually I'd get mad at
Speaker 1: him or crying. This brought my mother and grandmother out
Speaker 1: to see why I was upset. Either way, I ended
Speaker 1: up getting my butt busted for going on the street
Speaker 1: when I wasn't supposed to, and I was made to
Speaker 1: stay on the back porch for the rest of the day.
Speaker 1: I never stayed mad at Joe for long. After all,
Speaker 1: he was just looking after me. He died when I
Speaker 1: was five years old, just before I started school. I
Speaker 1: was devastated. His passing taught me what death was and
Speaker 1: the permanence of it. His leaving may have left a
Speaker 1: hole in my heart, but my heart was bigger and
Speaker 1: warmer for having known him. I've been listening to you
Speaker 1: for quite a few months now, and I want to
Speaker 1: thank you for your stories. I love your even toned
Speaker 1: voice and your comforting comments about your readers and the
Speaker 1: authors of the stories you read. Thank you for sharing
Speaker 1: my little story and memory of my first true love,
Speaker 1: Joe the hind fifty seven of the Hound, Well, you're welcome.
Speaker 1: Thank you for that nice paragraph there at the end
Speaker 1: of your at the end of your story. But that's
Speaker 1: a great dog story. You know. Dog stories are just good. Uh,
Speaker 1: they don't have to be long. Obviously, this was a short,
Speaker 1: little story, but I felt it. I felt she's thought
Speaker 1: about what this dog did for her life all the
Speaker 1: way back before she would turn five years old. She
Speaker 1: remembers that dog was keeping her, trying to keep her
Speaker 1: out of that street. And they're smart that way. They're
Speaker 1: put in our lives for a reason. Just another great
Speaker 1: dog story. And I want to tell the writer. She
Speaker 1: doesn't leave her name, but hopefully she'll hear this and
Speaker 1: this is this is a great story, so thank you.