Animals and the Afterlife (15 page)
Tassi
Karen M. Lambert, Retired Social Worker California
M
Y ELEVEN
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MONTH
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OLD PUPPY
, Tassi, passed away one May. She was a gorgeous and rambunctious half Husky and half Chow. She was with my husband and me all the time—in the car, in the parks—as we are both retired. We bonded so closely with her that she was a member of the family. I even made her “people food” like taquitos. She was my baby. Fifty-five pounds with a glorious red coat, she filled my life. I was newly retired from a back injury, and she made the transition easier.
She was poisoned, unknown to us, by the ivy next to our cul-de- sac. Secretly, the homeowner’s association was putting rat poison in the ivy without telling the owners. She loved to run in the ivy, and she would swipe bones and other things that I pulled out of her mouth. She lost twenty-two pounds within two weeks, and the veterinarian was puzzled and assumed it was allergies. When the liver scan came back showing severe liver damage, she had to be euthanized. It was agonizing to do this to a dog less than a year old.
Over the next two to three weeks, she came to visit us from the Other Side.
First, there was a strange occurrence in her play area outside. She had a favorite little rubber blue ball. Just after she crossed over, it moved. It would be on one side of the gate one morning, and on the other side of the gate the next morning. It was as if she were nudging it with her nose from the Other Side.
Next, her favorite chair, a heavy wood piece, was pushed back four feet off the area rug onto the tile flooring. She would play with my husband, Jerry, over and over each day when she was alive, against that chair.
I felt such anger that Jerry had allowed Tassi to run in the ivy, as I knew it harbored unsafe conditions. Every time that I expressed anger at my husband, the chair would be pushed back four feet when I awoke the next morning.
I finally understood that she was telling me from the Other Side that she loved and adored Jerry, and for me to stop blaming him for the poisoning. I would awaken in the middle of the night, and it would be pushed back, just telling me of her unconditional love for him.
When I called her to me one day, I felt her presence in the room and told her I was no longer angry at Jerry.
The next morning, all the area rugs (used to brighten a home filled with ceramic tile) were pushed up against the sides of the walls. My cat could never have done this, as the rugs were heavy and bulky. I know that Tassi made it known to me that she was joyful at the knowledge I now carried with me. The knowledge, not only that we communicate with our pets on the Other Side, but also that love is all there is. She was so happy that I was filled with love instead of anger.
She never returned to play anymore. She had delivered her message.
Although she does not return for mischief, I can call her to me anytime that I wish. I feel her presence in the room, her sweet fur next to my leg. When I want her there, she is there. I know because my heart feels warm and loving. She comes to me late at night to say, “I love you.”
Love continues, no matter what being you are. It endures for eternity.
Buddy
Gwen Gerow, Resource Engineer New York
M
Y HUSBAND AND
I have been married almost twelve years and don’t have any children, but have had the good fortune of sharing our home with three wonderful pets, two cats (Buddy and Rex) and a dog (Mocha). They have been part of our lives ever since we’ve been married and are truly cherished members of our family. Buddy was the oldest (he would have been thirteen this year) and was the best companion I could have ever asked for. We shared a very special bond.
Buddy was always, always my cat. He followed me everywhere, inside the house or out. From room to room, even across the street to the neighbor’s house, he would sit on the front porch looking in the door, waiting for me to come back out. My husband always said he was more like a dog than a cat. He was very social, always wanting to be involved whenever we had company (Rex, on the other hand, would hide). I could go on and on about him; he was so intelligent, he knew things that I have no idea how he learned. But above all, he always wanted to be with me. He couldn’t wait for me to sit down (usually in our favorite chair) so he could join me, and at night he always slept on the bed with me, either on my pillow, or in the crook of my right arm with his head on my shoulder and front leg across my neck. Sometimes during the night, or on warm evenings, he would move to the foot of the bed, but as soon as I woke up, he’d be right back at the top. He always had such a strong personality and presence in our house; and was always a huge source of comfort to me during times of stress, sadness, happiness, or any other time.
I have experienced the loss of older family members, childhood pets, and even the death, five years ago, of a very close friend who was thirty-three years old at the time. As difficult as that was, nothing compares to the profound feelings of grief that I experienced with the loss of Buddy. I fell into a deep depression, I couldn’t sleep or eat, and my stomach was upset all time. I had huge issues of unresolved guilt (for not taking him to the vet sooner and not being with him when he died), and just felt like part of myself died along with Buddy. I felt like there was no joy left in my life and that I would never be able to be happy again.
I would like to share some things that I have experienced since Buddy’s death, things that I considered to be “communications” from him. I have had to be cautious as to who I could share these with, since my husband basically thinks that I’m losing my mind, and my mother thinks that I need to stop dwelling on it. Let’s face it, many people don’t feel that the loss of a pet should be a big deal, and there just aren’t many resources for people like myself who are struggling with this type of loss.
First, I feel I should tell you just a little about myself. I have a degree in mechanical engineering and a master’s degree in business administration. It’s my nature to always look for logical explanations for things that happen; I’m trained to gather facts and evidence to support theories.
It was about two weeks after Buddy died when things began to happen. All of our pets have made a habit out of coming in the bathroom whenever I’m in there. There is a spot on the wall where Buddy would always go to, reach all the way up, and stretch. Through the years of doing this, some distinct sets of prints can be seen from where his feet wore the paint away. Before Buddy died, I’d been telling myself that I needed to get that wall painted; now I can’t bear the thought of covering those paw prints up!
Anyway, one day I was in the bathroom and Rex came in. My heart almost stopped when I realized that he had gone right over to the spot where Buddy used to stretch. My only thought at the time was that Rex was going to do the same thing, which he had never, ever done. In fact, he never paid any attention to it before. There he was, in the exact spot that Buddy would have been standing in to stretch, except Rex had his nose at the base of the wall and was sniffing intently. Then, he lifted his head all the way up and put his nose directly on the first spot, about twelve inches off the floor. Then he turned to his right, still sniffing very intently, then turned around to his left, again sniffing, and stared into the corner of the room. I watched in amazement, not having a clue what could be going on. I couldn’t think straight at that time anyway; I was so sick with grief.
After a short time, Rex just turned and walked away. I didn’t know what happened, but I felt touched that, at the very least, Rex was thinking about Buddy. It wasn’t until afterward that I began to consider the possibility that Rex was sensing Buddy’s presence in the room but couldn’t figure out for himself where Buddy was.
It was about this time that I had a series of very vivid dreams about Buddy that happened over the course of several nights. I had not once dreamt about Buddy until that time, and haven’t since.
One morning, maybe a week after I had the dreams, I walked into the front hall to get something. I suddenly had the strongest sensation that Buddy was there with me, like if I turned and looked down he would have been standing right behind me. This sensation only lasted a few seconds, then was gone. I was confused because I didn’t know why that would happen in a place that I didn’t really associate with Buddy, and thought that something in the area must have triggered a memory that made me feel that way, although I couldn’t figure out what it could have been. There was nothing that should have done that. I kept going back to the hallway and repeating my motions to see if I could get the sensation again, but nothing happened and I guess I just dismissed the whole thing.
I thought about the bathroom incident with Rex, and the sensation I had in the hallway, things that I had perhaps not recognized for what they may have really been. I have some pictures of Buddy on the kitchen counter, one in a frame with some of his fur inside the glass. I jokingly refer to this area as “Buddy’s Shrine.” I walked over to it and said, out loud (my husband wasn’t around at the time), that I was sorry for not recognizing those two times when he may have been trying to get through to me, and I promised, if he ever did again, that I would. This was in the afternoon, and I left the house for a while that evening, basically forgetting about the whole thing.
I came home later that night and went to bed as I normally would. I was alone since my husband was working nights. It was around 4
A.M
. when this really profound thing happened. Again, this is hard to describe. I wasn’t dreaming; there was nothing leading up to this. It was as if I was just sleeping, and my mind’s eye opened up. I looked down at the foot of the bed, between my legs, and there was Buddy, lying on the bed and looking directly at me. I don’t know what this was, but it was very real.
I woke up immediately and said, out loud, “Hi, Buddy, hi, baby” (I always called him “baby”). The thing is, when I woke up, I was lying in exactly the same position as when I saw Buddy, flat on my back with my arms to the side, not a normal sleeping position for me. I remember being thankful that my husband wasn’t there, since he thought I was losing my mind as it was, and that Rex was lying next to the bed and knew what was happening. I then fell right back to sleep.
When I woke up in the morning, I remembered this “dream” vividly. Replaying it in my mind while in the shower, it occurred to me what I had said to Buddy the afternoon before, that I was sorry for not acknowledging his presence. I don’t believe in coincidences and can’t help but think that the two things are directly related. All day long I felt so grateful that this, whatever it was, had happened. Of all the things that I have experienced, this was by far the most bizarre. I have no explanation for what it was. It definitely wasn’t a dream. Since then, I haven’t picked up on any more signs from Buddy.
I miss him so much, but I am so thankful for the signs he gave me, signs that helped me get through a very, very difficult time. I am so thankful that he shared his life with us, and helped open our eyes to the possibility that there is something more beyond a physical existence, although the lesson is a hard one. And I’d also like to add that just writing this story down has helped me immensely. If no one else ever reads it, I’m still glad I did it. I will always remember the things that have happened and their amazing effect on me.
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C
HAPTER
9
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If I have any beliefs about immortality, it is that certain dogs I have known will go to Heaven, and very, very few persons.
—J
AMES
T
HURBER
A
FTER HIS CAT
D
OOIE DIED
, Thomas Goheen, an electronics repairman in California, had reason to believe that Dooie was still around. On several occasions, he felt Dooie rubbing against his leg as if the cat was really there. When this happened, the sensation was, in his words, “very, very cold—I mean, almost ice cold.” It is very common to feel a drop in temperature during a contact from the spirit world. Perhaps this is, in part, why some people feel goose bumps during such encounters.
The first time it happened was the night before Thomas got a new cat, two months after Dooie died. As Thomas put it:
I went down to the pound and found a new cat, and they had to put a hold on him for a week. Then, the night before we brought the new cat home, I felt the cold rubbing sensation. The day we brought the cat home, I felt it again. The rubbing sensation was very pronounced. I was in the kitchen and I felt him rubbing against my legs (Dooie was very well known for rubbing against our legs); and then the day we got the new cat, I felt Dooie rubbing against my legs many more times. It hasn’t happened since—I kind of hope it does.
Perhaps Dooie was checking in on Thomas and giving the new cat his blessing.
Then there was Regina Fetrat, who shared the following experience:
I once had a rabbit named April. He died after being with me for several years. When he was alive, he would hop on my ankles to waken me and get his ears rubbed at night and early morning. After April died, I felt him on my ankles just like normal, while I was awake. This went on for many weeks.
O
VER THE YEARS
, I collected many stories very similar to these. Following are more examples….
Boozer
J.D. Stanger, Product Manager (Purchasing) California
S
EVERAL YEARS AGO
, my husband and I shared our life with a beautiful yellow (neutered) tomcat named Boozer. Boozer lived with us for almost twelve years. Our darling boy was taken from us when a car struck him at the edge of our driveway. I was heartbroken. For days and nights, all I could do was cry. I missed him so much.
One night I was in bed, lying face down and crying into my pillow. I felt Boozer jump up on the foot of the bed and walk alongside me. He walked all the way up to the side of my face, and I felt his nose touch me. I know it was him; this had been a routine with us when he was alive—he always did exactly the same thing when he was ready to find his spot to sleep. This time he came not to nap but to kiss Mom “bye for now.” It brought me tremendous peace, and I was able to start the healing process.