When Mommy Adopted Winnie: A Tale of Horse Ghosts, Demons, and Insomia

I had a dog growing up, a Cocker Spaniel and Beagle mix, who was inordinately gentle, kind, and loving. Muffin was a dream dog. She passed away when we were both 16.

At around age 17, I developed explosive allergies to everything under the sun, including cats and dogs. My allergies had been growing progressively worse up to that point, until they threatened to kill me. Thus, I went on hardcore antihistamines.

You guys, I never wanted a dog, nor did I want cats: Allergies! Expensive! High-maintenance! Poop! Pee! Poop! Expensive! I had reached a point in my life where I was aggressively anti-pet.

After I graduated with my Masters degree, I got a grown-up job and moved into my own apartment in the heart of the city. 

I'm prone to weird obsessions, which is how I've become obsessed with topics ranging from Appalachian poverty to moon landing conspiracies at various points in my life. At this particular point, I became obsessed with ghost stories.

My buddy Sam reinforced such flights of fancy because the girl is stuffed full of creepy-ass stories she swears actually happened. We began telling each other A LOT of ghost stories. Actually, Sam told a lot of ghost stories, while I stared at her, pale-faced and white-knuckled.

This being Laura's Latest Obsession, I also took it upon myself to Google ghost stories.

That's where I read about horse ghosts:

A lady wrote about riding horses as a child. Her horse was elderly, gentle, and calm. One day, she rode past a dilapidated stable. Her horse suddenly reared up and shot past the stable, freaked out and trembling.

The lady mentioned her horse's weird behavior to her dad. Her dad gave her a funny look and replied, "There was a fire at that stable about ten years ago. A lot of horses died."

So the horse was sensing horse ghosts. HORSE GHOSTS, PEOPLE. I MEAN, MY GOD.

That was the night common sense left me completely. I was living alone. I couldn't sleep at night. I stayed awake with the lights on, too frightened to close my eyes.

I would like to take this moment to tell people:  

I don't believe in ghosts. Or spirits. Or horse ghosts. I am a logical person. Ghost stories are made-up nonsense. 

But, at 4am, all alone, with a mind full of horse ghosts, I felt convinced demons would fly into my apartment at any moment, and I needed to be awake, just in case.

The next evening, I went out to dinner with a handful of friends.

Laura: "Y'all, I'm sleep-deprived because I'm scared of ghosts. I mean, I'm terrified. I can't sleep at night."

Laura's Friends: "You should get a dog!"

Laura: "Yes! Of course! A dog!"

Laura's Friends: "Then you won't feel scared!"

Laura: "Yeah! I mean, I don't like dogs. Or want one. But I should get a dog! Because I'm scared of ghosts! WON'T THIS BE PERFECT?!"

The next day, a friend alerted me that someone was offering a rescued hypoallergenic puppy for free. Being highly sleep-deprived and scared of ghosts, I agreed to adopt the puppy.

And it's been true love ever since.

Baby Winnie at 8 weeks old