I have a feeling this post’s going to go wrong. Somehow. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no superstitious canine. But I’m getting a bad vibe about the fact that the number XIII [Roman Numerals] is plastered right across my precious title space. I can’t really help that now can I?? It really is the 13th post.
I’ve probably inherited this jumpy gene from Great-Grandma Kimberly. She was ONE credulous woman. If she spotted a black cat even a mile away [I think I’d better inform you that even at ninety, she had better eyesight than half of my fourth-grade sister’s classmates], she would cancel ANY trips, expeditions, ANYTHING that was planned for the day.
I have to admit, once upon a time, I was quite wary of stuff like that. Whenever glass shattered, I would be fervently be praying to the almighty to release me from the clutches of the 7-year-bad-luck-curse. Whenever someone told me about misfortune that as going to befall, I would hastily grab a plank of teak and start muttering.
Fortunately, I am now totally cured from these beliefs [touch wood!!].