When my wife was in high school she was convinced that she lived in a haunted house. Her mother felt the same way. Small objects in the house would vanish without a trace, never to be seen again, and the only explanation they could come up with was that their house had to be haunted.
Since there were only three people living in the house at the time – my wife and her two parents, they were convinced that a thieving “haint” had taken up residence in their house. Being from the South, they all knew that ghosts were real and that it was perfectly reasonable to assume that the ghost of a dead relative had decided to pay them an extended visit. And maybe, just maybe they reasoned, that ghost had sticky fingers. As a result of this my wife and her mother dubbed the ghost “the thieving haint of Belshire Lane”, after the name of the street they lived on at the time.
The problem was that every time my wife’s mother would buy fingernail polish, the bottle would vanish within a day or two. She would often sit in her chair in the living room and paint her nails while the whole family watched TV and when she was done she would leave the bottle of fingernail polish on the coffee table. The next day the bottle would be gone, never to be seen again.
At first my future mother-in-law accused her daughter, the girl who at the time had no idea that she was destined to be the love of my life, of stealing the bottles of fingernail polish. My wife always denied stealing the fingernail polish and would often show her unpainted fingernails as proof that she was not the thief. This went on for several years. My future father-in-law could only look on in amazement as his wife and daughter fought over the missing bottles of fingernail polish. Oftentimes he would try to lighten the mood by showing them his unpainted fingernails as proof that he was also not the thief.
Finally my mother-in-law gave up and resigned herself to the fact that she would at best get only one use from a new bottle of fingernail polish. No matter where she left the little bottle – the coffee table in the family room or the nightstand in her bedroom, the bottle always vanished within a day or two of her using it.
The mystery of the thieving haint of Belshire Lane was finally solved one evening during my wife’s senior year of high school while the family was watching TV together. A brand-new bottle of fingernail polish was sitting on the coffee table when Jellybean, the family dog, walked into the room. The family then watched in amazement as “the Bean”, as they called her, got up on her hind legs at the edge of the coffee table and took the fingernail polish bottle into her mouth. Then the Bean strutted across the living room to the couch and dropped the bottle of fingernail polish on the floor. She then laid down on her side and took her paw and pushed the bottle of fingernail polish underneath the edge of the couch.
The family could only look at each other in amazement. My wife’s father then got up, walked over and lifted up one side of the couch. Hidden underneath was a large collection of fingernail polish bottles. Dozens of them.
The thieving haint of Belshire Lane turned out to be a Kleptomaniac Lhasa Apso with very sticky paws. After that night my mother-in-law always placed her new fingernail polish out of the reach of the Bean and as a result the bottles stopped vanishing. But anytime something else vanished, like the car keys, a makeup compact or the latest copy of Reader’s Digest, everyone knew that the thieving haint of Belshire Lane was back, and that the first place to look for the missing item was underneath the couch.