Animals and the Afterlife (16 page)

Bindu

Eliyana Scott, Motion Picture Projectionist and Holistic Massage Therapist California

I’
D LIKE TO TELL YOU A STORY
about my dog Bindu. I rescued him when he was about three years old, by the vet’s estimation, and we lived together for eighteen years after that. Bindu was a very affectionate, intelligent, protective, and loving dog. During our many years together, whenever I stood at the kitchen sink to wash dishes, he would walk over to me and give me one little lick on my left leg, about three inches above my ankle. After that he would turn and walk to my left, circle around a few times, and then sit down with his back against the wall, where he could watch me. Even if he had been asleep in another room when I started to wash the dishes (which was sometimes the case when he was older), he would invariably wake up and come to give me his little doggie kiss on my left leg before settling down to rest at his usual spot against the kitchen wall.

Eventually Bindu died. I was too upset to work that day so instead I went for a walk in the woods, seeking a peaceful place where I could calm my emotions and be undisturbed as I spoke with Bindu’s spirit. As I sat on a log at the side of a creek, sunlight filtered softly through the leaves and I began to relax, listening to the soft, peaceful sounds of the water as it gurgled over rocks and twigs. Birds sang out in answer to each other’s calls. Tiny insects stopped to drink from the creek, and occasionally a pair of winged maple seeds or a leaf would slowly float to the ground. I was aware of the nurturing presence of all of nature supporting me as I sat there.

I talked to Bindu just as you would talk to a best friend. I spoke out loud, freely expressing all of my thoughts and feelings about our years together. Bindu was my first dog. He enriched my life tremendously. He helped me to more fully experience and understand what love is. It was an honor and a joy to have had the opportunity to live with this wonderful, loving being. I thanked Bindu and all of the nature spirits who were there with me as I spoke. After I finished saying everything that I wanted to say, I felt a sense of completion and inner peace.

About a week or so later, while I was in the kitchen washing dishes and my other dog, Honey Pie, was asleep on a bed in another room, I felt a little lick on my left leg in
exactly
the same spot where Bindu always gave me his doggie kiss. I could physically feel it—a light little kiss. It felt like I was being gently touched just at the edge of my skin’s surface. It was the kind of touch that you would feel if you gently touched the hair growing out of your skin, but didn’t actually touch the skin’s surface.

I was so surprised that I looked down in shock at my left leg and the place where Bindu always stood as he did this. To my delight and surprise, I realized that I could sense exactly where his spirit body was as he turned and walked away from my leg toward his usual place against the kitchen wall, where he circled several times and then sat down to let me know that he was watching over me. This only happened once, but once was enough. Bindu came back to teach me that love lives forever.

Bobby

Mary Pavlik, Homemaker New Jersey

W
E HAD A FAMILY PET
—a white poodle named Bobby. We had him for many, many years, and he was adored so much. He died on my birth- day. He was hit by a car. He tried so hard to hang on, but we lost him.

About one week or so after his passing, I would actually feel the presence of him around. Now, my mother and brother thought I was nuts … but I could actually point to the spot where I felt he was sleeping.

After a few more weeks, my brother would feel something jumping up on the end of his bed. It would freak him out, and I would tell my brother, “It’s Bobby.” Bobby loved sleeping on the end of my brother’s bed.

Then, more time went by, and my mother would feel something brushing up against her leg … and again, I said it was Bobby. So, eventually they started to believe me! Now, they were experiencing the same thing I’d been feeling all along.

I would be outside in the yard, and time and time again, I would see our other dog, Rusty (a large Irish setter), running in the yard, playing … and all of a sudden I would see a white flash running behind Rusty. Bobby used to always chase Rusty around the yard … always … and he still did even after his passing!

The presence of Bobby hung around our home for about a year. Finally, one day, I said to my mom, “Bobby’s presence is gone. He is finally gone. He went off to Heaven.” My mom was saddened by that, and she said she felt the same thing. No one brushing up against her leg … no one jumping on my brother’s bed. His presence was gone. But I told her not to be sad; he finally found his way to the Light and accepted his passing.

Still, every now and then, I see that white flash running by … and I know in my heart that he will be with us forever….

Kim’s note:
As this story illustrates, even after our loved ones have gone on to Heaven, they can still come back to visit anytime.

Lil Guy

Patte Purcell, Host,
The Next Dimension
Radio Show Nevada

M
Y
L
IL
G
UY
kitty of seventeen years got very ill and we decided to let him go to sleep after struggling to keep him alive. The day we took him in I told him that I loved him and that I wanted him to come back to let me know he was okay.

The night after he passed, I got his clear signal. He used to sleep on my pillow every night, and in the middle of the night he would tap me on the head until I woke up and gave him some treats. The night after he died, in the middle of the night I felt such a strong tap on my head that it woke me up out of a sound sleep. Shortly afterwards, both my husband and I felt a jump on the bed. He woke up, too, and we both said, “It’s Lil Guy.”

We got a couple of kittens shortly afterwards, and they both would stare at the hall like someone was coming in. I asked one of the mediums I had on my radio show if Lil Guy was there, and she said it was him. He was just breaking in the new kittens.

I’ve also been told that there are three spirit kitties around me: one black one (Lil Guy), one orange one (Felix), and another dark one (Smoochie). These are all kitties that have passed. I still miss them, but it’s nice to know that they are still around me.

Biscuit

Kendra Thompson, Student New Jersey

F
RISKY, WHOM
I
LATER
affectionately nicknamed Biscuit, was a cat I brought home when I was eleven years old. Though I never had a single year growing up without at least one cat, I considered Biscuit my first cat because she was the first to live with me in my present home and also because she was the first pet I had that would teach me the bonds that surpass friendship … that only a pet could provide. Though after her, a few more cats had joined the family, Biscuit was my closest buddy. I could never sit down without her coming over to me and jumping into my lap. If I was lying down on my stomach, she’d curl up on my back near my shoulders … as close as she could get to my face, and she always slept in bed with me at night, without fail.

When she was twelve years old, she developed mammary cancer. We decided at the vet’s office that surgery seemed the best option. After surgery, she wasn’t the same. The incision went from her neck down to her groin, and she lost balance in her back legs. After the biopsy from the surgery, the vet told us the cancer had spread to her lymph nodes and other areas and that lung cancer would probably be what would ultimately end her life. She passed on only three months after that painful surgery that I wish I had never allowed.

Even though she had an incision that practically cut her in half, and her back legs were not working properly (preventing her from jumping), every night even after the surgery, she would stumble to the bed and try to jump up. She would fall down, though; she didn’t have the strength to get all the way on top of the bed, so I picked her up and brought her into bed with me. Our best moments over the last few years were at night just before I went to sleep. I called her the “pillow snatcher” because whatever pillow I chose for that night, she had to lie on … as long as she was on top of my face. During these times, I would talk to her while she kneaded my face and purred her unique, high-pitched squeaky purr. Then, eventually, after I’d fallen asleep, she’d curl up in between my legs. It felt like she was strapping the blanket over my legs, but she loved to do it, so I let her.

A few nights after her death, as I was lying in bed about to fall asleep, I felt someone jump onto the bed. I checked to see who was there, but I was all alone. So I made myself comfortable under the covers again and shrugged the feeling off. Then I felt, so distinctly, someone curling up in between my legs and the feel of the blanket strapping them. Without the slightest doubt in my mind, Biscuit came to bed with me one last night.

Rest in Peace, PeeWee

Azar “Ace” Attura, Artist, Photographer, Animal Rescuer Virginia

Kim’s note:
The first part of this very creative story is told from the perspective of the cat, giving us a chance to feel what it must be like to be on the other end of such experiences.

H
OW MANY YEARS HAS IT BEEN
? How many more kittens will I give birth to? I am so tired! I feel so sick! Wish my beloved would come back for me…. At night, I hear her crying and I want to comfort her, but I can’t. She asks the Big One if she can come and bring me home; the Big One always says “No!”

The Kind Old Lady feeds me and
all
the cats here in this empty lot, but at night when I lie under these rocks, in the rain, the cold, the snow, with ice under my paws, I hear my beloved crying for me. I want to go to her, but I don’t know where to find her!

My fur used to glisten. I was lovingly brushed every morning—like a mama’s tongue licking me. My beloved told me how she took me home with her when I was very young. I remember seeing her when my eyes first opened—I thought she
was
my Mama! She fed me with a bottle, taught me how to potty, taught me everything I needed to know about being a
cat
. I’m so proud of her! She fed me tasty food and played with me before she went out the door every day. When she came back, she was so happy to see me—I loved her so!

The Big One was usually kind to me. But she would
not
let me sleep with my beloved! She locked me in the small room with the big tub, where I would cry, and then fall asleep. Sometimes my beloved would sneak me into her bed—that was fun!

Oh, I feel so
very
sick. The night is cold, I feel so alone!

I am getting up now, but I don’t see anything. I feel myself walking, but I can’t see anything.

Oh!
There is my beloved!
She’s awake!
Beloved, can you see me?
I will jump on your bed, I will walk on your legs, I will stand on your chest, I will give you a love bite, just like I used to do! There!
Oh, my beloved—I have found you!
But now … I feel so strange!

I
WOKE UP
at 2
A.M
. one cold October, four years after I had to leave my much-loved kitty PeeWee behind in the Bronx when moving to Virginia. (How I cried—Mom refused to spay PeeWee, and the only home I could find was with a kind lady who fed her cats but let them wander! PeeWee! I
never
wanted to leave you, but I was only fifteen years old, and Mom said I had to leave you behind!)

I suddenly felt something jumping on the bed, sitting on my chest, giving my hand a love bite. Was this PeeWee? Nothing was visible, yet I was wide awake! PeeWee had come in spirit to say good-bye to me.