The weeks have passed. Halloween has come and gone. But the unseen visitor in my dining room lingers on. Could it be waiting for an invitation to Thanksgiving?

I’m assuming, of course, that you know what visitor I’m talking about. You do remember, don’t you, my last column? The one where I told you about the appearance of an unseen creature – no, no – appearance is the wrong word. How can something make an appearance when it’s never been seen? It would be more precise to say it’s made its voice heard within the household every day, starting way back in early October. It’s an unsubtle sound, a cross between a screech and a scratch, contained inside what kind of body stubbornly remains a mystery despite frequent searches amid the houseplants and corner bookcase from whence the sounds seem to be coming.

I have to admit that, by this time I’ve grown accustomed to my ULO’s (Unidentified Living Object’s) voice. Whenever my ULO raises it, usually twice a day for several seconds at a time, never at the same time (it doesn’t seem to carry a watch) I make a point of wishing it “Good day, Thing.” Later, after leaving the outside door open to allow escape should it want to despite the growing chill, I’ll ask him in my best innkeeper’s voice, “We’ve decided to stay on another night then, have we?”

I’ve even taken to addressing it by name. Of course, I don’t know what name its mother may have given it when it was born. But it seems rude to simply address the whatever-it-is as “Hey You.” Therefore, I’ve taken to calling the thing “Thing.” I figured if Thing can be considered a proper name for a disembodied hand, surely it is equally appropriate for a disembodied voice. So now, before changing the channel on the TV, like any good hostess, I will first call out “Were you watching this, Thing?” Or when I go to turn on music, I’ll inquire, “What are you in the mood for today, Thing? Classical? Traditional Country? Rap?” Thing has yet to express a preference but, as I said, it would be rude not to at least ask.

You would think my Methodist cat or at least the two Dorkies (my Yorkie and Dachshund mixes) would be upset by the addition to the household of Thing. But you’d be wrong. The two little dogs, who routinely express a desire to beat up the UPS guy and anybody else who ventures onto the farm, ignore Thing completely. The sound of a back-up alarm will turn them into frothing-at-the-mouth maniacs but Thing’s bizarre screechy, scratchy voice does nothing to them. They snooze right through it. Obviously Thing has become just another member of the family as far as they’re concerned.

And with that being the case, I suppose there’s only one more thing left to ask Thing: Which do you prefer – drumsticks or white meat?