Animals and the Afterlife (19 page)
If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.
—W
ILL
R
OGERS
O
NE NIGHT
I
WAS AWAKENED
out of a sound sleep, not by a touch or a sound, but by a scent. It was so intense that it literally pulled me out of my slumber and drew my attention to an area of the bedroom to my right side, a few feet away from me, where the scent seemed to emanate from. Rather than startling me (the normal response when I am so abruptly awakened), it filled me with a sense of absolute peace.
The scent was nothing less than heavenly: the most beautiful floral fragrance I’ve ever encountered. I did not have any flowers, perfumes, essential oils, or candles in the room, nor do I even know of any that could have emitted such a strikingly beautiful aroma.
The scent then seemed to permeate the room, and I simultaneously became aware of what felt like an angelic presence at my side, watching lovingly over me. I’m really not sure how long it lasted. I just felt completely in the moment when it occurred, and I felt more peaceful than I ever remembered feeling before.
Then the scent suddenly vanished, but the sense of peace remained. I pondered what had just taken place, and I continued to dwell upon its significance the next day and for a long time afterward. At the time, I had no idea that visitations from the spirit world often take the form of a scent. Yet I felt strongly that I had just experienced a mystical encounter. I never figured out exactly
who
it was in my bedroom that night, but there was no doubt in my mind that
someone
had been there.
Then, when we lost our beloved rat Katey, I recall sitting on the sofa one evening. This particular piece of furniture had been Katey’s favorite hangout, and she had often run happily back and forth across the back of the L-shaped sofa, stopping periodically to nestle on the shoulders of whoever sat there.
Now, as I sat on what had been “Katey’s sofa,” I suddenly detected the very familiar, soft scent of her fur, which always took on a delicate, sweet, perfumey scent when she groomed herself. The scent was subtle and brief, but it was definitely there. It lasted only a few seconds, and I got the strong sense that Katey was just “passing through,” possibly to say a quick “hello” and run across the back of her sofa once more. I smiled and acknowledged her presence, and the experience took away some of the grief I had been feeling over her passing.
I began to hear stories of other people who had detected a very specific scent in conjunction with what appeared to be a contact from the Other Side. People reported very distinctly smelling their dog’s shampoo—or other familiar scent associated with a particular animal—after the beloved animal had passed. Like my own experiences, these events always took place “out of the blue” and not when the people were expecting anything to occur. Like me, the people usually had no idea that such a thing was even possible, until it happened to them.
Years after my first experience along these lines, I had another very similar experience … except this time I had a witness. Jameth and I had a few friends over, and we were all enjoying meaningful conversation. Suddenly, I began to smell an otherworldly floral fragrance, accompanied by the sense of an angelic female presence. Before I could even say anything, our good friend Russell (who is quite spiritually attuned) spoke up.
“Do you smell that?” he blurted out quite suddenly. I nodded.
“I sure do,” I replied.
“Do you know what I think it is?” he asked.
“Yes,” I responded. We simultaneously agreed that we felt a loving female presence in the room. It lasted a short while and then vanished. Although I had never questioned the reality of my experience in the bedroom that night many years before, I felt validated, as someone else now acknowledged the same presence.
As a result of these experiences, I knew exactly what was going on when a similar event later took place. I was home alone one night when suddenly, right in front of me, I distinctly smelled a very strong, masculine aftershave or cologne. This scent was accompanied by what I felt to be a very pronounced male presence right in front of me.
At first it startled me, as the presence felt very
human
(rather than animal or angelic), so I phoned Jameth and nervously asked him to come home right away. The scent had vanished by the time I completed the call, but then it happened a second time a few minutes later, so I turned on all the lights and anxiously awaited Jameth’s arrival.
When I told my mom about the experience the next day, she reminded me that my recently deceased grandfather (her father) had always worn fairly strong aftershave, and it then occurred to me that perhaps he had simply stopped by to say “hello.” I felt a little ashamed of myself for having been so frightened by the experience, but then I realized that human intruders when we’re home alone are simply more unnerving than animals or angels, especially when we don’t realize
who
the humans are.
On the other hand, of all of the stories I gathered from people who had similar experiences involving
animals,
no one ever reported being frightened by the experience. Such visitations from beloved animals always seem to bring comfort and peace.
Following are stories of people who have had such experiences. In some cases, the scent is the exclusive experience. In other cases, the scent is accompanied by other evidence that it is indeed the presence of a beloved animal on the Other Side….
Patchouli
Nicole Lockard, Pet Resort Manager
Maryland
M
Y GRANDFATHER
, the most wonderful man, passed several years ago. I often feel him near me, or more specifically, I smell him! His scent was very unique: a combination of Chesapeake Bay air (he lived on the bay; I do not), Polo cologne, tobacco, and whatever else makes up one’s personal scent.
My beloved Dalmatian, Patchouli, passed away last summer. My heart was broken and I missed her so terribly. She was truly an angel with fur. Recently, the scent of my grandfather has been taking on a new hint of Patchouli (the dog, not the herb).
Since she was a puppy, I loved smelling Patchouli’s paw pads. They kind of smelled like popped corn. Every so often, out of nowhere, I get that familiar whiff of my grandfather, followed by the smell of my Patchouli’s paws. I like to think that they are taking care of each other somewhere, and sending me a little “hello.” They never met in life, but they would’ve been great friends. Maybe now they are.
Sugar Bear
April Prager, Psychic and Animal Communicator
Kentucky
A
BOUT A MONTH AFTER
my cat Bowie died, I decided to go to the pound to look for another cat. This beautiful tabby point male caught my attention.
He looked like he was getting ill, but I had a connection with him. When I held him, he just purred and purred.
I asked the people there if they would treat him for a few days, and if he got better, could I adopt him. They agreed.
Four days later, he was a little better. He was still running a temperature, but they let me take him anyway.
He was fine for a day. Then he started throwing up and running a high fever. I took him to my vet. We felt like he had distemper. We decided to try to keep him alive with fluids and antibiotics and see if he could kick it. He wouldn’t eat and got weaker every day.
I started to feel like he wasn’t going to make it, but he just kept hanging in there. He was getting weaker and weaker. I think he was trying to stay for me.
While Sugar Bear was very ill, I kept him in my bedroom. There was a certain smell that permeated the room. It got stronger the sicker he became.
We put Sugar Bear to sleep soon after that. I buried him next to Bowie.
A few days passed. I had a dream in which Sugar Bear came back to life and when I awoke, that same smell was everywhere in the bedroom.
I got up and walked through the house. Only in that room could I smell that smell. It lasted about fifteen minutes.
I was sure Sugar Bear had come to visit and to tell me he was alive and well.
Rex
Gwen Gerow, Resource Engineer New York
I
SPENT THE LAST TWO WEEKS
of my beloved cat Rex’s life sleeping on the couch with him because he would no longer come into the bedroom, and he had gotten very particular about where he would get water from. He would only drink from the kitchen faucet (he was never allowed on the kitchen counter, but I made an exception when he became sick since it was the only place he would drink from at that point). So, at night I would listen for the sound of him jumping down from the counter and I would get up and turn the water on for him. Several times a night we would go through this routine. The last couple of days he turned away from the kitchen faucet, but I found that he would drink from the bathtub faucet (something he had done in the past when the tub faucet used to drip). He also, at times, would sleep in the bathtub.
Anyway, the time came when we felt that we should have Rex put to sleep, a decision that my husband and I agonized over. Neither one of us had ever had an animal put to sleep before, and this was such a difficult decision, especially for my husband because he and Rex were so close.
After we came home from that last trip to the vet, I walked through the kitchen and I thought I could smell Rex. He had this kind of aroma that I think got stronger due to the B12 vitamin that we had been giving him. But then I realized that the vitamin bottle was on the counter and that must have been what I was actually smelling. My husband had been lying down in bed and came out to the kitchen, so I told him how I thought I smelled Rex, but it must have been the vitamin instead. My husband just looked at me and said that he smelled Rex, too, but in the bedroom while he was lying in bed. The thing is, as I mentioned, Rex had stopped going in the bedroom and hadn’t been in there for a couple of weeks.
Then, a couple of days later, we were talking about Rex, and my husband told me that while he was in the bathroom early that morning, he heard Rex in the bathtub. As I mentioned, Rex used to hang out in there at times, and he would startle us by making this sound when we didn’t realize he was there. This was the same sound my husband heard that morning. Let me just say that I was very surprised to hear him mention this, and that he actually thought the sound was coming from Rex. My husband is definitely not one to believe in anything like that at all. I told him that I was happy for him, happy that Rex was trying to let him know he’s still around and he’s not upset with us for having him put to sleep.
The last and most profound thing happened to me eight days after Rex had been gone. I was having a particularly hard time and thinking a lot about him. I was in the bedroom when I heard a sound that stopped me in my tracks. I even said Rex’s name out loud. There was nothing in the house that could have made this sound; the radio wasn’t on—television, laundry, you name it—nothing was on or running. I knew this sound all too well. I had heard it several times a night for two weeks as I lay on the couch taking care of Rex. It was the sound of him jumping off the kitchen counter onto the hardwood floor. A very distinct sound as first his front feet, then his back feet, made contact with the floor. I walked slowly out into the kitchen and glanced over at the counter. In my mind I even knew which part of the counter the sound had come from, but I didn’t walk over to it. I stopped to try and figure out what else could have possibly made that noise, but there was nothing.
About an hour later, I was walking through the kitchen and something caught my eye. I stopped in my tracks because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. From about five or six feet away, standing out clearly on the dark floor, was one of Rex’s whiskers. And the whisker was right underneath the counter where only an hour earlier I knew was the spot that I had heard that sound come from. This whisker was right in a spot that gets a lot of traffic. There is no way it could have been there for eight days without my noticing it (even for one day, for that matter). His white whisker clearly stood out in contrast to the hardwood floor; it looked like a big scratch in the wood. And the fact that I heard that sound only shortly before—I can’t explain any of this. I suppose someone could say that the whisker was on my clothes or somehow got transported to that spot. But you can’t tell
me
that’s what happened. Especially since Rex had been gone for over a week. Where did that whisker come from? I was blown away when I saw that whisker lying there, and I believe that, somehow, Rex left it for me as his way of trying to comfort me when I was feeling down.
Kim’s note:
This is an example of a person who received more than one type of contact, not only smelling her departed cat, but also hearing him and finding his whisker (this latter phenomenon is not uncommon and will be covered further in a later chapter).