I’ve driven through Lucan dozens of times and have never had a chance to stop in. I thought today would be a perfect day to take a look around, maybe pop into the architectural salvage place I’ve been eying, but the universe had other plans.
You see, dear internet, Lucan has a dark and dangerous story in its past. The sad and sordid story of the Donnelly massacre is well known locally and throughout Canada. There are rumours that the area in and around the homestead on the Roman Line is haunted, and local high school and university students often come up to the cemetery near Lucan in the middle of the night to scare themselves silly.
On my way to Lucan, I decided to pop into the cemetery by St. Patrick’s Parish. Now, I’m not a superstitious girl by any means. I jump on cracks with abandon, have never tossed salt anywhere except into a dish, and think cemeteries are beautiful, not scary. As I pulled into St. Patrick’s, I was greeted by a black cat. A friendly, sweet black cat…
… who promptly escorted me to the Donnelly grave at the back of the cemetery…
… and then wouldn’t let me leave.
I was trapped at the cemetery for a good long while, trying to cajole that cat off my car.
Why didn’t I just pick it up? Anyone who’s ever been owned by a cat knows better than to try and manhandle an unknown feline, especially one who still has all of his sharp, pointy little claws. By then, I had just enough time to hightail it back to London for a family shoot and never did make it to Lucan.
Highly suspicious. That’s all I’m saying.