Banana Boy and Paranormal Activity

He’s doing it again.

I’m sitting here trying to work with Riley lying at my feet in full hackle, growling at absolutely nothing. I used to heed these "warnings". I’d jump up looking for the stranger in the hockey mask but I'd never find anyone or anything...ever. Still, the growling can be unnerving for visitors and, until recently, I made lame attempts to put them at ease. I ask you, is there anything less reassuring than an owner chirping over a dog rumbling like a thundercloud, “It’s not you, I swear!”

I don’t do that anymore. Now, if Riley growls and someone raises an eyebrow, I shrug it off. “What? Him?” I say. “He sees dead people.”

I think my hijacked line from The Sixth Sense is hilarious, but I’ve come to realize there are many who genuinely believe animals are paranormally gifted. We’ve all heard about Oscar, the nursing home cat that could predict death with 95% accuracy (how would you like to be enjoying your morning coffee and have him saunter into your room?). And just last week a friend shared she feels her dearly departed dog, Ridley, jump onto her bed every night. Do I believe these are supernatural phenomena? Nah. I’m what you might call a benevolent skeptic. I know a dog’s nose can detect cancer so I’m more inclined to believe Oscar is picking up on something physiological. Who knows how imminent death looks and smells to a cat? As for Ridley, I believe my friend so keenly recalls the feeling of him jumping on the bed that her memory is tactile. I believe she misses her dog.

I have, however, been forced to suspend disbelief because the unbelievable has happened right here in my house. Riley can read minds.

I realized he’d been touched by the gift one ordinary weekday afternoon. I was standing at the sink doing dishes, Riley asleep on a nearby kitchen rug when I formed the following thought: I have got to clean his ears. Before I could turn around, Riley was on his feet hightailing it to the basement. One might reason that I unknowingly gave off a bad vibe. Could be. I can say this much, if you had to clean Riley’s ears, you’d give off a bad vibe, too. He doesn’t like it.

He does like bananas, though, and he knows when someone’s about to have one. He just…knows. Last Sunday, husband was in front of the computer catching up on the news when Riley, dead asleep just the moment before, sat up and began staring at him very intently. 

“In a minute, banana boy!” snapped husband. And then to me, “How does he do that?”

“Do what?”

“HOW did he know I was thinking about, you know, making my cereal?” He looked over at Riley only to find himself caught in the crosshairs.

“I don’t know,” I yawned, getting up to pour more tea. “But you better give him a bite of that banana.”