3 am in the Cabin on the Lake
If you follow me on Facebook, you may know that I’ve been living in a “tiny house” cabin on a lake in Texas. One bedroom, one bathroom, and a double bed. It’s a bit cramped. You may also know it’s been raining like crazy for two weeks. If you didn’t know, I’m here to tell you.
After two straight weeks of rain, the lake has overflowed its banks. The spillway can’t release the overflow fast enough. The water has spread into the campground where we are staying, and not only have many of the travel trailers had to be moved or be under four feet of water, the wildlife has been flooded out too. (there’s a great video on Facebook of me being chased by a mad, displaced goose)
This is a quiet place, and the only thing that can be heard at night is the pounding of the rain, which is good for sleep. Our cabin is on high ground, so we aren’t in any immediate danger of flooding, though I have been gathering materials for an ark. Speaking of high ground, the cabin is also on a trailer of sorts. It’s a rustic tiny house on wheels but in a permanent parking spot.
After a long night of writing, I went to sleep around midnight, listening to the rain and thunder. Around 2:47 am, I’m startled awake. Scot fell asleep in the living room, so I call out quietly, “Hey, did you hear that?”
My heart is racing, and I’m sitting up. I’m too chicken to go see what’s going on for myself. Heck, if Scot wasn’t home, I’d be wide-eyed, listening and waiting for the “beast” to open the cabin door, not confronting whatever it was.
Usually, it takes a freight train to wake him up, but he hears it too. The sound: a thump under the cabin. And then another thump. By now, Chica is on alert; growling and pacing. I’m still sitting on the bed. No way am I going out to face the wolf at the door, or under the cabin.
Scot gets up and stands in the living room, listening. Nothing. I roll over and he climbs into bed. There it is again, only this time, the noise in on the side of the cabin. I’m thinking Big Foot, Scot is thinking anything but. He grabs the flashlight and walks out to the deck. Chica is whining because she wants in on the chase.
“Woof.” Then the sound of tags on a dog’s collar.
Whew. Just a dog. But very unusual for this place. We’ve lived here twice, for several months each time, and there aren’t stray dogs.
“Get. Go home,” Scot says. To me, he says, “It’s just someone’s dog. It has a collar and seems friendly.”
The red dog looks at him and trots away.
Thump. Thump. This time the floor actually moves. Scot says, “Did you feel that?”
“The toilet moved,” he said. He’s out of the bathroom in a hurry. I’m laughing, even though I’m a little scared.
Now he’s back out on the deck, but no dog. Weird.
Then we hear a pickup drive by not once, but twice. Scot goes back out to stand on the deck with the porch light on and the driver stops to talk.
“Hey, I’m sorry, but my dog saw an armadillo and jumped out of the window of my truck to chase it. Have you seen him?”
“Yeah, I think that armadillo might be under our cabin. Your dog is red?” Scot says.
“I think he’s under our cabin too.”
The driver calls the dog’s name, and the red dog pokes his head from under the cabin like, “Is someone looking for me?”
Scot and the driver laugh and the dog jumps in the now open passenger side of the pickup.
“I’m so sorry man, he’s never done that before.”
Scot waves him off, telling him, “It’s all good. I’m just glad you were able to find him.”
I should tell you, I’m afraid of the dark, and all things that go bump in the night, and I lay awake for the next two hours or so, just listening to the noises of the night, and Scot’s snoring.
Do you have any fun stories from camping? Or things that go bump in the night? Please share in the comments. I’d love to hear your stories.