Animal Ghosts...
Since I'm still up and don't want to try to sleep again tonight, I remembered that I hadn't told you about the happiest ghost in the house. And, since I haven't, I should start at the beginning with my experiences with animal ghosts, since I've probably had as many animal ghost sightings as people, anyways.
My first experience is not a ghost story, not really. It is about my favorite dog, Hoagie, who passed away when I was thirteen. Hoagie was sixteen when he died, so he was my big brother. Hoagie was always looking out for me. Being half collie, he had those shepherding instincts. I've actually written an entire little book about him already though, so I'm just going to get on with his afterlife. I had a friend when I taught, who was also a teacher, and I suppose we had something in common. For one thing, she was the only other person that I knew personally, that had a nightmare during the morning hours of 9/11. Yes, she had the second sight, as I'd call it. Anyways, I had been in England and was relaying my trip to her. For some odd reason I told her that I kept tripping over my own feet while over there. I'm usually a pretty graceful enough girl and just attributed it to their old uneven sidewalks and cobble stones. But, my friend said, "Have you ever been to Lily Dale?" At the time, I hadn't. Being from Erie, she frequented the place. It is a spiritualist psychic community. She said, "There is a psychic there that says when you trip over your own feet, it is actually an animal spirit guide under your feet. I don't know why, but I've always thought that you had a big dog around you." That set me really to wonder, because my best friend had told me that while I was gone, my mother had been calling out to Hoagie's spirit to watch over me; she was worried, because I had gone to England alone.
On to Lily Dale, then. Lily Dale definitely deserves a mention among my ghost stories anyways, and this happens to be the chapter for it too. Lily Dale is not easy to find, as it sits atop a hill, nestled back in the woods of New York, not far from Lake Erie, and the internet maps that I had printed out at that time had it all ass-backwards. After finally finding the place, I just pulled off and parked my car the first spot I found. As I got out of my car, I felt a very deliberate and kind hand on my shoulder. I was not only not at all afraid, but felt guided, and wondered off into the woods, straight to their lovely forest chapel with the old stump and pet cemetery. While there, I had intended on visiting with a psychic, of course. What other reason do folks have to venture to Lily Dale? But, something was stopping me. For one thing, there were dead birds littering the sidewalks, I mean, they were everywhere. It gave me such a bad feeling, that I skipped the psychic altogether. When I got home, a family member died the very next day, unexpectedly.
When I lived in Oakland, I had this cat. She was wicked and hated me. She attacked me several times. Since she seemed to worship my ex, I left her behind with him. Right after I moved away, she died, under my bed. She was not a very old cat. I took her death very hard, for although I believed she hated me, I still loved her and cared for her. Right after I moved into the new house, even before I had heard of her passing, I heard a cat clawing up the stairs, then crying at the window. There weren't any cats around. I didn't hear it anymore after that though, so I think it was her, not some ghost cat associated with that house.
When my brother's cat had died, it was very sudden, a brain aneurysm. I don't think he even knew that he was dead, as the entire family had seen him after his passing. There he would be, in his old spot, plain as day, looking alive as ever; only the next minute he'd be gone. I haven't seen him in awhile though since that, so he may have since passed on.
Before I get on to the resident ghost though, I must go back to a past chapter, as I have somewhat of an update on that saber toothed cat ghost that Shiner and I saw. Remember how I said that it was smaller than the North American saber toothed tiger as we know him? Well, interestingly enough, just about the time that we spotted him, (and we've never seen him since), they discovered a load of saber toothed cats in caves in the desert of Australia, and they were, indeed, much smaller than the North American variety. I'm not really saying that this was a definite premonition of the Australian discovery, however, as that does not explain why Shiner would have seen it too. If I remember correctly, those were marsupials too, and this area is heavy with possum... Who knows? But, it is a strange mystery.
Now, Packer. Packer is the ghost of a Britney Spaniel that used to live here, before us. He died, here, too. I have seen, heard, and sensed him. The first time I saw him running through the den, and mistook him for Shiner, only thought he looked big. That is, until Shiner walked in the door; he had been out at that time, and I was alone in the house. The next time I was sitting here, in the dining room, I sensed him at the french doors, and heard him breathing. Shiner was upstairs in bed at the time. Just the other day, I was sitting on the floor in the hallway, going through the closet. I heard a dog's wet snuffle breathing from the door jamb. Thinking it was Shiner, I was ready to play, until I opened the door to discover nobody there. Shiner was in bed, as usual. I have also seen him at night, just a flash of white, outside the french doors. A couple of weeks ago I was cleaning underneath the refrigerator when I found a lump of old dog food. It must've been Packer's, as Shiner wouldn't eat that slop.
