You may recall how Margaret Lindsley Warden described the actions of The Thing–
A rush of wind that rustled the ladies’ voluminous petticoats usually announced the arrival of The Thing. Some felt The Thing to be like a large cat, others like an arm without hand or fingers. Besides rubbing legs, unbuttoning high-buttoned shoes, and rattling silver and china, other phenomena were attributed to it. The big table would rise and push people around the room. An occasional putrid odor would necessitate circle breaking and window opening.
So here I am last night, reading through Nashville: Haunted Handbook by Jeff Morris, Donna Marsh, and Garett Merk, when I come to the entry on Centennial Park, which reads, in part,
In the section of the park near the funeral home, people have felt something like a cat rubbing against their ankles. When they look down to see what is at their feet, there is nothing there. Sometimes these hapless victims find that their shoes have been untied.
And who owned that house before it was a funeral home?