There was a place on the [B1023] road that she hated called Jordan's Green [TL943106], where a lane led [north] up to Gorwell Hall, where a man was said to be buried with a stake through his heart, and she used to cycle past it as fast as she could. Then one very cold, moonlit January night she had to go for the midwife at about 12.30am, and had just heaved a sigh of relief as she got past Jordan's Green, when she saw the black dog on the road. "'Its head was level with my handlebars and its body seemed to stretch the length of my machine.'"

She felt cold, the hair on the back of her head stood on end, and she began to pray that the beast wouldn't knock her off her bike. It was so close that she could have reached out and touched the dog's harsh black coat, that seemed rough and uncared-for. It didn't attack her however, just keeping pace with her until they reached Seabrooks Lane, where "'it just went'."

On the return journey, she was relieved that the dog didn't reappear where it had left her, but when she got back to the Green at Gorwell Hall Lane [also known as the 'Chase'], it was lying in the middle of the road with its eyes shut, and a huge tongue that looked "'like bright red velvet'." There was very little room for her to get past, and as she did, she prayed that the creature wouldn't wake. But she reached her home safely and told her parents, who went out searching with lanterns. They found nothing, but told her never to travel that road alone again at night.