Animals and the Afterlife (18 page)

Cubbie

Joanne C. King, Wife and Mother

Florida

M
Y BELOVED
M
ALTESE DOG
, Cubbie, became ill and passed away two days later. I had just lost my grandfather and was dealing with that grief, but nothing prepared me for the passing of my greatest companion and friend. Cubbie and I went everywhere together. He slept in my bed, licked me when I cried, and was never quite comfortable unless his body was in constant contact with mine.

He was a dog, but once you get to know them and you look deep into their eyes, year after year, you no longer see an animal; instead you begin to see the depth of any human capability of emotion. It is given freely, and the wealth of comfort it brings cannot be completely understood until it is taken from you.

After Cubbie passed, I thought my heart would shatter into a million pieces. I didn’t want to get out of bed, I didn’t want to talk to anyone, and I certainly didn’t want to accept this reality.

One night, I was watching television. It was around 11
P.M
. I was alone, except for my two cats. I started to get sleepy and rolled onto my side. I was still listening to the TV, as I could hear it clearly, although I was drifting into a sleep state. All of a sudden, I heard a growl … it came directly into my ear. I thought, at first,
What an odd sound for my cat to make!
Then it came again … a clear dog growl. It was so close to my head, and I could actually feel the pressure of a small animal on the other side of my pillow. I pulled myself to turn over and look. My mind thought,
Cubbie!
When I completely turned around, I looked and there was nothing there. The television set was still on, continuing the same program I was listening to, and whatever made the growling sound was gone.

I absolutely believe this was Cubbie. I had wondered why he would growl to get my attention … probably because it is audible and because he had such a high-pitched bark that it used to make me jump out of my skin! Whenever he would bark, I would correct him, but never when he would quietly growl.

I miss him to this day. I keep a picture of him in my living room. He is still adored and loved … as love continues and is constant. I know that one day we will be reunited.

Nicky

Martha Koelemay, Registered Nurse, Healing Touch Practitioner Arkansas

M
Y BEST FRIEND
for almost fourteen years was a wonderful Samoyed named Nicholas. I have shared my life with many dogs and loved them all, but Nicky was that extra-special companion sent to be with me through the most painful, difficult period of my life.

When the heartbreaking time came that he had to leave his physical body, I was desolate. I don’t remember now how long he had been gone, but several weeks, I think. I was sleeping soundly one night with my boyfriend beside me (to my right), when I was awakened by the sound of snoring beside the bed to my left. Something felt strange and familiar about that snore. I dropped my hand down and felt only air, so I sat up and looked for the other dogs. They were all sleeping on the floor at the foot of the bed, none snoring. The snore had stopped, though, so I lay back down. Then came a sort of “knowing” that I can’t really describe. My boyfriend was also roused by the sound and said, “What’s that?” By now weeping with joy, I said, “It’s Nicky. He’s sleeping in his old place beside the bed.” We lay quietly for a while, and then there came a gentle bump and I knew that he had gone again. But I treasure this memory and its certainty that this beloved friend is somewhere and that he still cares for me.

There were other times that I felt Nicky’s presence, but this one was the most vivid, and the only one that someone else witnessed.

There was another incident, too, that I “saw his paw in,” when he sent me a companion to get me through the first Christmas without him. He was pretty goofy in many ways, and he loved Christmas and Christmas presents, getting as excited as a child. That Christmas Eve afternoon I was out in the yard, and suddenly there appeared a huge Great Pyrenees dog at the head of the driveway.

She just stood there for a minute or two, and then she sauntered slowly down the driveway and right up to me. I knelt down, and she put her head on my chest, right over my heart; then she looked right into my eyes as only a dog can.

She stayed with us for about a month, and then disappeared as mysteriously as she came. I know in the deepest parts of my heart and soul that Nicky sent her to me. As I said, he was a very special dog.

This is the only animal companion I have had to whom I was this bonded, and I’m sure it had a lot to do with the circumstances of my life while he was with me. I know he was sent to be with me during this period. I live in the Ouachita National Forest in Arkansas, on the Ouachita River, and Nicky’s grave is on the hill just out from the deck onto which my bedroom opens, overlooking the river. I don’t feel him often and am certain he has gone on, but once in a while I get a strong sense of his presence—maybe he just “checks in” from time to time.

Kim’s note:
It’s not uncommon for animals to mysteriously enter the lives of those who have recently lost a beloved animal, almost as if they have been sent to assist them through the grief.

Georgie

M.J. Shaw, Retired Social Worker
Washington

S
OME VERY STRANGE THINGS
happened before and after the death of my beloved kitty, George Bernard. But before I tell about them, I should probably talk a little bit about my relationships with animals.

Even though I had no pets of my own when I was growing up, I always felt very close to animals, whether they were neighbors’ pets, or animals on the farms and ranches of the relatives we visited when I was a child. When I talked to them, they seemed to understand what I was saying, even though I knew they couldn’t understand my words the way humans could.

There were many other pets along the way, including my cat Sandy, who died of kidney failure. My grief at losing Sandy seemed unbearable, but one day about a month after she died, I very suddenly had an urge to go to the Humane Society and see the animals. This was certainly not something I had planned to do, but as I drove to that facility I thought that I might get an older cat or dog who had lost their human. I had no intention of getting a kitten or puppy.

As I was walking past the cat cages, a little orange tabby, who was about nine weeks old, caught my eye. He was pawing at me behind the cage and demanding in the bossiest way that I get him out.

He was the same color as a previous cat named George, and they looked very much alike. I decided to name him George Bernard, partly after his predecessor and partly because our last name is Shaw.

We bonded immediately. He seemed to understand right away that I am very hard of hearing and that I did not respond to meows all of the time. He knew that to get my attention he would have to pounce on me or make eye or tactical contact with me. I taught him to wake me up when the alarm went off, but he figured the rest out for himself. He truly became my ears.

People were always amazed at the bond between the two of us. We could almost read each other’s thoughts. Our times together were so joyous. He was always on my lap having his tummy and head scratched when I watched TV in the evening, and when I was reading in bed, he would push my book away with his head and climb up on my chest. He then rolled over on his back and I had to sing “rock-a-bye-kitty” to him and pet him under his chin. If I stopped, he pulled my hand back with his paws.

One day, I started having the most horrible sense of impending doom. I have always felt that some people have psychic powers but that I was not one of them. At this time, when Georgie climbed up on my chest to be rock-a-byed, thoughts that I should cherish those moments because I might not always have him with me kept coming to my mind. I had never had thoughts or feelings like this before.

Then one day, shortly thereafter, Georgie chased a neighbor’s new cat into the street and was killed by a car. I was in severe shock and wondered how my life could go on. I could not sleep, had difficulty breathing, and spent most of my time crying.

T
WO NIGHTS AFTER HE WAS KILLED
, I felt him jump up on the bed. He always hit the bed with a thud, and I could always feel it.

The same thing happened the next night, and about four days after his soul left his body I heard him very violently coughing up a hair ball. He had always had hairball problems, even though he was given special food for this condition. When he coughed like this he always got my immediate attention. When I heard this so clearly, I thought I was hallucinating.

Other things started happening within a week of Georgie’s death. It seemed that whenever I was gone from the house and I was seized with uncontrollable grief, a cat would all of a sudden appear, look me in the eye, and seem to give me comfort. These cats just seemed to
be there
for me. It was as if Georgie had asked his friends still on Earth to comfort me.

An Animal Lovers’ Tail

S.R. Hipwell, Lecturer, Teacher Worcestershire, England

My Dobermans, Sophie, Merlin and Crystal; and the cats, Woody and Max, all return to us from time to time….

A
SHORT TALE OF THREE DOGS AND TWO CATS
who graced our family with their presence. In order of seniority, Woody the cat came to us first; we found him in a wood, hence his name. He had been dumped, and although the vet thought he was thirteen to fourteen weeks old, he was only as big as a six-week-old kitten. Woody stayed the small, always cautious black bundle, until he was called for the last time nearly sixteen years later.

Sophie came next, a Doberman, wisdom incarnate; she had a vocabulary of some two hundred and sixty words. She was taken very suddenly at only seven years of age. However, Sophie left us with Merlin and Crystal, two of her seven offspring. Merlin, the firstborn, became the strong but silent type; he was thirteen at the final whistle. Crystal was born last, such a pretty little thing who could run like the wind. A brain tumour at the age of eleven was Crystal’s demise.

Max, a tabby tom, was adopted from the local cat sanctuary. He grew to be an enormous cat, bold and fearless, much to his undoing. He became an RTA [Road Traffic Accident] at just over the age of three.

How do we know they are still with us?

Often, when we open the side door, we hear a trill, just as Woody made to tell us he was on his way. Occasionally I hear a purring when in my workshop, like Max would purr after jumping onto my bench. Merlin still rattles doors as he did if he was not in the kitchen when the lady of the house was baking. The top of the stairs was Crystal’s domain, and she would circle before dropping to the floor with a thump. This is the most often-heard sound of our friends’ presence. Visitors have heard some of these noises, but do they really believe our explanations? Perhaps they are too polite to say, “Could it be all in the mind?”

If you are not convinced, Sophie may just have the last bark! Sophie, the canine professor that she was, would not let anyone, other than the immediate family, sit next to the good lady. She would always force her bottom between them, but she kept all four feet on the floor. Even now if someone sits by my wife on the settee, they can feel a pressure on their leg on the same side as my wife is sitting. Now, this includes people who are unaware of Sophie’s existence. It occurred so regularly that we had to make a conscious effort to avoid the situation and the subsequent explanation.

Are you convinced? We hear and feel the truth.