Call Me Kat

*When we bought our dream home, we were looking for something with character—an older house with history, charm, and stories to tell. We never imagined that one of those stories might still be unfolding within its walls. From unexplained cold spots to our dog’s eerie behavior, little things began to add up, making us question whether we were truly alone. This is our story… but the question remains—Is our home haunted?“

For many years, we had been looking for a home that wasn’t a new, cookie-cutter type with no character. Instead, we wanted an older home that had never been modernized, except for minimal updates such as plumbing and electrical work. After twenty-odd years, while looking to downsize and find a small home for retirement, we hoped to settle in a small town in the mountains.

On weekends, we took road trips through the Pennsylvania countryside, heading west on the Lincoln Highway toward the mountains. Occasionally, we would turn north, traveling through small towns and cities tucked away in the valleys. We would travel northward to the next westbound highway for a few hours, enjoying the incredible views and small towns.

After searching for a couple of years and visiting dozens of available homes, we finally found what we thought would be ideal. It was a smaller home built during the 1930s that hadn’t been altered, just updated as needed, such as replacement windows, electrical wiring, and plumbing.

We had decided to explore places of interest while on our road trips, and one of these brought us to Flood City, PA, also known as Johnstown, PA—a small city that became the site of the worst flood in American history in the late 1800s. The devastating flood destroyed most of the city and killed more than 2,000 people. The victims now rest in a cemetery that overlooks the city from high on a hill a few miles from the site of their deaths.

The house, located in a borough of the small historic city of Johnstown, PA, was almost perfect. Almost, because can any old house ever be perfect? The little city and its boroughs were nestled in a valley surrounded by the Allegheny Mountains. The house was only a half mile from the city line, in a lovely neighborhood on a wide tree-lined road. The homes on this section of the road were all on the same side of the street, opposite a slight hillside covered with old, tall trees that cast long shadows across the road while still permitting the southern sunlight to bathe the front yards and homes.

The homes were built in the 1930s, and although they shared similar traits, no two were exactly alike. No cookie-cutter homes here. The homes were also very near each other, with barely enough room to drive a car between them. When the homes were first built, there was an alley running parallel to the main street, but behind the homes. Because of this alley, the homes each had much larger yards with ample space for their cars and garages. Following the last major flood during the latter half of the 1900s, the engineers creating the flood control project took the alley to create a canal for controlling excess water runoff. Since then, the homeowners needed to squeeze their cars between the houses and find space in their halved backyards for parking.

The yard for our little dream home was small, but we had specifically looked for a home with minimal maintenance, something manageable for us as we grew older. Although the house and yard were small for now, within ten years, we decided it would be the right size for us.

While driving around the streets of the boroughs and looking at listings for homes, we found what appeared to be a good prospect. Since the house was vacant, we walked up and looked around and through the windows to see a charming home with plenty of possibilities for our future. We immediately contacted the agent selling the home and were able to do a walk-through. It didn’t take long to make the decision to purchase this home.

The original architectural details remained intact, including the tiny kitchen with its small breakfast nook, arched doorways with a peak at the top of the arch, and original casement windows in the kitchen and dining room. There was a basement perfect for food storage and an attic with potential as a cozy reading room. It was almost perfect. There were a few minor things that needed work or adapting, but mostly, it was ideal and welcoming.

We spent a few months traveling between our home in central PA and the new home in the western mountains to paint all the rooms and prepare the home for living. We chose the third bedroom across from the bathroom to use while we redecorated the rest of the house. That room was chosen because it had two windows on adjoining walls, which provided great ventilation at night, offered a good view of the tree-covered hill behind the house, had the biggest closet, and was located directly across the hallway from the bathroom.

Since we could only be there on weekends, it took quite a while before we could move in.

When we slept there, we noticed our old rescue dog would always position himself between the bed and closet, facing the closet. This was not his usual way of settling in for the night, which was to sleep on the floor alongside Nick, but we assumed he was just adjusting to the new environment and was a bit nervous.

After a couple of weekends in the house, we noticed that he wouldn’t go near the room during the day, even if we were in it. He also refused to stay anywhere upstairs alone, even for a minute.

When we finally moved in, we continued using the same bedroom and set the dog’s bed in the hallway just outside the bedroom doorway, thinking he might sleep more peacefully there. We positioned his bed a little away from the doorway, and he would settle in with his back end to the room as if not wanting to see anything that wasn’t visible to human eyes.

Sometimes during the day, we started seeing him exhibit odd behavior, such as standing outside the bedroom doorway with his head down and tail tucked between his legs, looking toward the closet and softly growling. If we tried to get him to enter the room with us, he refused and stood firmly at the doorway. He wouldn’t remain anywhere in the house if we were not there too.

We’ve experienced cold spots which defied explanation and would come and go even on hot days. Creaking floors are common in an old home, but not when they creak along a path when no one is on them. We keep doors closed, especially the closet in the corner bedroom, and more than once found it open. Finally feeling exasperated while hearing sounds while making up the bed, I put down the pillow I was fluffing, looked around, and called out to whomever might be listening, “Listen, I know you’ve been here longer than us, but this is our home now and we are staying. You are welcome to stay, but you must please stop startling us and be quiet.”

These days, things have quieted down a bit, but the dog still refuses to enter the bedroom or remain upstairs alone. We keep that bedroom door closed.  There are still times when the dog will slowly walk to the bottom of the stairs, look upward, and softly growl and waits a minute or two before retreating to his safe place by the fireplace in the living room.  I wonder what he sees or senses…

“Have you ever experienced anything strange in your home? Let me know in the comments!”