It Follows

it follows

Recently, my husband and I watched the “psychological horror film” It Follows.

Just kidding. Ever since viewing The Ring back in 2002 and then going to the public bathrooms at 3am only to find the tile floor covered in water that was obviously from a reanimated dead girl and not just from an overzealous showerer, I can’t watch anything scarier than Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

When I say “my husband and I watched” it really means he watched it and then summarized it for me, which is our deal for 90% of pop culture including things like who Sia is, why people’s taking selfies with their faces switched with their babies’ or celebrities’ faces is normal, and all internet memes ever.

Ever since the movie, I’ve noticed an uncanny feeling of being followed. I get this weird tickly sensation on the backs of my knees, and hear a consistent clicking noise, like something – with claws – is slowly creeping up on me.

Sometimes the noise goes away or turns into heavy breathing or a rapid series of squeaks, but the only way to completely stop it is to stand in the middle of my kitchen floor, take a deep breath and brace myself, and then pour out large quantities of dog food into a bowl.

This is our new dog, and she is adorable so long as you walk her around the neighborhood six times before attempting to sit down anywhere in the house.

She is named Petra after the only girl in Ender’s jeesh, and though she doesn’t have her namesake’s sharpshooting abilities due to an inconvenient lack of thumbs, she is always willing to make a new friend. (To be fair, since we’re still working on not jumping up to greet people, many of her smaller friends run away in terror.)

Welcome to the family, pooch!

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