Animals and the Afterlife (14 page)

Shadow

Diane Arend, Project Manager-Systems Asset Management New Jersey

I
WOULD FIRST LIKE TO TELL YOU
a bit about me. I am a thirty-eight-year- old devoted wife (twenty years) and a mother of a seventeen-year-old. My mom told me, ever since I was a baby—under the age of two—I was nuts over dogs. I would see a dog—any dog—and go crazy, like other kids might when they see their most wanted toy. My mom always said that my reaction and behavior were rather intense as a child when it came to dogs.

Well, as I matured, every year my Christmas wish list was always the same. (And it often
is
the same.) Anything to do with dogs. Particularly, I loved Doberman pinschers.

Well, my love continued. I now have four Doberman pinschers and a min pin [miniature pinscher]. My very first Doberman, Shadow, was a really sweet dog. My family had a couple of other dogs at the time. We were considering getting a Dobie and there were no puppies available at the time. However, there was a young dog that was a year old who needed a home. He had been with a couple that broke up and now he badly needed to bond with a new family. I was told he was a sweet dog.

My husband was rather concerned at this point. He was worried about getting a dog at a year old … and he was nervous about Dobermans. But Shadow changed not only my husband’s opinion about Dobies; he also had a great impact on our lives.

When we went to get him, Shadow somehow knew right then and there that we were his new family and he was going home. It was so odd. We talked to his caretakers, while Shadow walked around the room. Then, Shadow came over to us (my husband, daughter, and myself) and lay down next to us. In fact, he leaned on our feet. This dog had just met us for the first time. He really did act like he
knew
he was going home.

Well, he also took very quickly to the other two dogs at home. Within a day, it was like we’d always had him since he was a puppy.

Years went by. When Shadow was about four, we began to notice that he was bumping into things. Shadow went blind. We brought him to every doctor and specialist under the sun and spent loads of money trying to find out what was wrong and what caused his vision to go. No one could tell us what caused his blindness. Many guesses were made, but certainly nothing definite; and more than certainly, nothing that would bring his vision back.

Knowing this, we were sure not to move any furniture in the house or leave anything out in the way to upset him. He lived fine like this for over a year. But then we noticed he had lost his sense of smell and he also had seizures. We felt so bad for him and our hearts broke. We loved Shadow so much. He had his hearing, but he could no longer see or smell. His only sense left was his hearing. When we would go to make his food, he would hear the bowl filling, but when we set it down for him to eat, he couldn’t smell for it. We had to guide his head over the bowl so he could find his dinner and eat. He was on steroids for a while because of the seizures, and he began to lose control of his urine.

Shadow became very unhappy and frustrated—to the point of anger at his disability. He began to snap at other dogs, and things startled him. Our boy’s day had come to make that step over the Rainbow Bridge.

I brought him to the vet to be euthanized, as there was nothing else that could be done for him and he was suffering. I sat on the floor and hugged him and kissed him as I talked to him. I wanted to be with him to the last minute.

I hugged him, kissed him, and told him how much I loved him … and that I would miss him so much. The doctor gave him the medication that ended his suffering … and sent him on his way to the heavens. Heaven, where I am certain all dogs go, and all dogs
do
have souls … regardless of what some people believe.

After my Shadow was gone, I felt this
tremendous
rip of heartbreak and pain. I screamed and cried like a four-year-old. I was devastated. I hurt so badly. As I struggled to regain my strength to bring my body up from the floor where I had sat next to my boy—my friend—I also struggled for a decent breath that wasn’t labored from sobbing. I felt like I had just been stabbed.

I stood, looked at my vet, and said, “Please take good care of my boy, and thank you for all you have tried to do for him.” I walked out of the vet’s office, still crying like a child, not caring who saw me—or what they thought. I didn’t care, for my grief was so deep and so raw, I could not suppress it, much less contain myself.

I slowly walked to my car, opened the door and got in. I took in another deep breath, waiting to see how long it would be before I should trust myself to drive. I let out another belt of a cry and said aloud in the car, “I miss you Shadow … I hate this … I miss you so bad … I love you,” tears just flowing down my cheeks, my shirt already saturated, my nose stuffed beyond air.

It was not more than a few minutes. Then, all of a sudden, I sensed my dog’s soul—his being—come to me and pass through me. It was as if his soul left the hospital, and hearing my cries, came to me—and I felt his presence. It was such a real and profound feeling that I was stunned by its impact and reality. It was almost as abrupt as someone snapping their fingers to get your attention.

I immediately felt this overwhelming sense of peace and that all was okay. For I know, am positive—beyond any doubt—that when it is my turn to pass over to the other side of the Rainbow Bridge, I will see my boy again. For I know the depth of a human and dog relationship and the strong bonds that remain … long after the two separate.

Kurgan

Mary, Health Care Administrator Illinois

A
FRIEND OF MINE HAD A DOG
named Kurgan. Kurgan has always had a special place in my heart, and I spent a lot of time with him before he passed from cancer. I am … oh, let’s call it spiritually connected … I do energy work, crystal healing, and I sometimes see auras and feel and know things that others do not. Many of my visits to Kurgan prior to his passing were spent doing energy work, so I felt very connected to him. The day he was euthanized, the vet said that due to his size, he would likely need three injections. I felt him pass (a great “whoosh”) after the second injection, and the vet confirmed his death right after that.

Several times since Kurgan’s passing, I have felt him for a couple of seconds, but I had a “knowing” that when he gave us a sign, there would be wind involved. I should also tell you that my friend (I hate to say Kurgan’s “owner” because they were best friends) felt great comfort in reading the poem about the Rainbow Bridge where dog spirits play together in a green field and wait for their humans to pass so that they can cross the bridge together.

I had read several accounts of people who saw rainbows in the strangest places after their pets had passed. My first strong feeling of Kurgan involves rainbows. One evening when I was out walking my dogs, I stopped to speak with an elderly neighbor. He kept looking over my shoulder in a strange manner. He finally said, “Is that a rainbow?” I turned around, and in a sky with absolutely no clouds, there was a very pale rainbow. I tried telling myself that it was nothing—a trick of a soon-to-be-setting sun. I brushed it off and kept walking.

About ten minutes later, the wind really picked up. I especially noticed it because my dogs were straining at the leash to catch little bits of paper and leaves that were blowing around. I suddenly “felt” Kurgan, looked up at the sky, and there were
two
rainbows, one inside the other (concentric). I had never seen anything like it in my life!

[
Kim’s note:
The subject of rainbows will be covered in a later chapter.]

My second awareness of Kurgan came just this afternoon. When Kurgan passed away, my friend donated some of Kurgan’s toys to Pet Rescue, but he also allowed me to give some of them to my dogs. One of Kurgan’s toys was on the floor near me (which was not uncommon). I suddenly thought that I felt Kurgan. I would have brushed it off as strong memories of him because of the proximity of the toy, if one of my dogs hadn’t done something. My male dog loves to initiate play with anyone that will give him attention, but his favorite “victim” is his sister. When he initiates play, he will set a toy down in front of her and take his nose and nudge it toward her and sit there and look at her, and then nudge it again.

He did that this afternoon, and when she didn’t express any interest, I expected him to bring it to me and do the same. What he did instead was set the toy down in front of the place where I felt Kurgan and then nudged it toward the “empty” space next to Kurgan’s toy. I knew in that moment that Kurgan was really here.

Casey

Name withheld for privacy

O
N A
S
UNDAY AFTERNOON
, our beautiful seven-and-a-half-year-old golden retriever, Casey, died suddenly, running in the yard, of an apparent heart attack. Our family was instantly devastated by this horrible event. Our female golden retriever, Cobey, grieved, and the cat yowled at the door all night. It was one of the worst things to ever happen to our family.

In the weeks after his death, our female golden, Cobey, would suddenly start growling for no apparent reason; the hair on her back would stand up and she would look up in the air at a corner of the family room. This happened a couple times and I didn’t pay too much attention. I wondered if maybe it was Casey’s spirit coming back to visit. It was kind of unnerving, but something was definitely going on.

One night, I was home alone watching TV and Cobey started the growling thing again for about twenty minutes. This time the cat was there, and he was looking up at the corner of the family room, too. This time I just watched, and I really believe I felt Casey’s presence in that room. I know
for sure
that he was there. All of a sudden, Cobey then stopped her growling, walked over, and laid down in the very spot where Casey always slept, and curled up and went to sleep, perfectly content. She has never slept in that spot before or since.

My husband also said he felt Casey’s presence on a number of occasions when he was sitting out in the backyard under the tree by his grave. But by far the most compelling instances were the ones in the family room, where my other golden was aware of something in the room with us. I would not have known about these times if it weren’t for her reaction. There was definitely something in that room with us. And every time, she looked up at a corner of the room and growled and barked.

Since I feel that night I was given the message that he was “all right” the occurrences have stopped. I think he has gone across to the Other Side, and that night was his way of reaching us. I have felt better about his death since then, and know that we will all be together again someday.