Buddy stares fixedly at one corner of the dining room, and then suddenly sprints through the living room and up the stairs. Eventually, he comes slowly back downstairs and stares at the corner again.
Me: What’s going on, Bud? Puppy zoomies? I’m sorry we didn’t get to walk today, but I’m not feeling well —
Buddy: Shhhh! Don’t you see it? It’s right there!
Me: [looking at the corner] What? Do you need me to check something? What do you see? Crap. Do we have mice or something?
Buddy: NOOOOOOO! [sprints upstairs again. Scrabbling dog feet can be heard on the upper floor for a few minutes before Buddy returns to stare at the corner some more]
Me: OK, this is just weird. What the heck is going on, Bud?
Buddy: IT. IS. A. GHOST. Get the salt and the iron! Call those two really tall guys with the weirdly codependent relationship, the ones from that TV show you leave on for us when you go to work! They know what to do!
Me: You’re…wait. You’re seriously asking me to call the Winchesters to save you from a ghost in the dining room.
Buddy: IT. IS. A. GHOST! SAVE US FROM IT, FOOD LADY!
Me: How about some dinner instead?
Buddy: Dinner? Oh, sure. I could eat.