It was late in the summer of 1989 and I was preparing for my annual sojourn to Ocean City, MD for a bit of rest and relaxation. Before I left, I called my friend George, who lives in St. Michaels, MD to let him know that I would be stopping by his house for a visit on my way back from the beach the following week. This was a bit of a tradition that we would get together during the summer and sit on his porch, eat crabs and drink a few beers. George was a longtime friend and we both looked forward to the visits. He and his wife, Lee, would visit us around the Christmas holidays when they came to Baltimore to visit their relatives. George stated he would be home and waiting for my visit.“By the way, do you still conduct your investigations?” he asked. I acknowledged that I did on occasion and asked him what was going on. Frankly, he never seemed interested in this subject previously. “I’ll wait ‘til you get here…there’s no particular reason.” I told him I’d call before I left the beach to let him know I was enroute and said my goodbyes.
Several days later, I arrived at George’s residence. He lives in a beautiful neighborhood. Most of the houses are restored to the original early 19th century design. It’s a very quiet area with many trees and greenery. George’s house is a two story colonial with wood plank siding and a rail fence that completely encompasses the property.
George was sitting on the front porch when I pulled up. He greeted me at my car, “how was the beach?” I told him it was less crowded than I expected which was a pleasure. I spent a few days deep sea fishing while I was there and had the bad sunburn to prove it. We walked to the porch and sat down. He seemed a bit withdrawn while we small talked about family, sports, etc. I knew something was bothering him so I came right out and asked him why he inquired about my paranormal investigations. He replied “I saw something recently.”“Do you remember the old guy next door, Frank Shipley?” I told him I vaguely remembered him, though I know I was introduced to him many years previously. “Well, ole’ Frank died in May” George continued. “He talked to me a few days before he passed away. He was wondering if I could take care of his dog, Max, if anything ever happened to him. I told him ‘sure’…Max was a good dog (male Boxer) and there would be no problem. Anyway, a week or so later Frank passed away. I knew something was wrong when I didn’t noticed Frank walking Max that morning and again that evening, so I knocked on his door and there was no answer. I called the police and they found him sitting in an armchair. Max was laying beside him and didn’t cause any commotion when the police arrived. In fact, Max simply walked out of the house and sat in the front yard.”
George continued to tell me what had happened. The next evening, I was sitting on the porch watching the ballgame on TV. Max was laying on the porch swing…it seemed that he would adjust well. It was around 8:00 pm and it was starting to get to dark when Max suddenly jumped to his feet and ran to the fence by the sidewalk. He sat there for a few seconds, then he started to walk along the fence (left to right) to the other side of the yard. He walked back to the porch and sat down on the steps. About 15 minutes later, he once again jumped up and ran to the right edge of the fence, sat for a few seconds, then started to walk along the fence (right to left). When he got to the gate, I noticed a mist moving outside the fence. Max was moving with this mist until he reached the end of the fence. Max then walked back to the porch and sat by the door and whined. I opened the door and let him in then walked back to the chair on the porch and sat down contemplating as to what I just witnessed. Lee (George’s wife) told me Max went into the kitchen, ate his food and went directly to his bed.”
I left for home that evening. About a week later, I was talking to George on the phone. I mentioned the mist and Max' behavior. “What do you think it was?” George asked. I replied that it was probably some residual energy of Frank's nightly walks with Max. I explained that what I witnessed was not unusual and there’s nothing to be concerned about. I asked if he had seen anything unusual since that evening and he replied that he had not. I continued to explain the possibility of certain spirit energies replaying and display like a looped film. He seemed to take everything I said in stride. “By the way” I inquired, “how's Max?” George answered, “oh, yeah, Max died that same night.”
I suppose it’s possible that Frank and Max have found another neighborhood on a different plane to take their daily walks.
Max: A Spirit's Best Friend
