sisters and their families. They were all there in the dream! Only one was missing. Candy, a female Jack Russell that had bitten me as a child, was not with the other companions we’d loved so much. I don’t know where she was, but maybe bad dogs go somewhere else. I felt great comfort in knowing that the dogs were all together, and after this very real dream my guilt went away for good. I shared this full story (and others) in my book An Angel Held My Hand. It was important to me to know that Lady had carried on after death. Her life hadn’t ended when her body died.
My cat Tigger, a fat ginger tom, was friends with her too, and in one of those bizarre coincidences he has just jumped up onto my desk as I write this. As he looks up at the screen, it’s as if he is showing his approval of his friend’s immortalisation in this book! How do they know?
Was my experience a dream or something more? I’ve always believed that it was a real visit from my dog’s spirit after she passed over to the heaven side of life. It was clear and vivid; the colours were bright and memorable, the experience real and true, and I’ve never forgotten it, even after all these years.
My post bag has yielded many such stories over time. Lots of folk have experienced contact of some sort from their pets once they have crossed over. You may have read about how our human loved ones do this (and you can find out more about this phenomenon in some of my other books), but did you know that animals continue to exist after the death of their physical bodies too? It’s true! The spirit of our pet lingers, as they want to reassure us that they did not die – at least, not in the way we think.
Dogs, cats, horses, hamsters, rabbits: I’ve been sent true-life stories about all of these animals and more. Don’t forget birds! Birds continue after life too. They all appear in vivid dreams from time to time, like the one I had myself, but also make themselves known by bringing familiar scents or sounds to their owners – just popping back to say hello. Sometimes they appear in intense waking visions. That love from our pets continues after death.
We’ve always been a family of pet lovers. Moggy was my first ginger tom cat. He lived with us when I was a teenager, and he would sleep on my bed at night. Cats always understand you, even when no one else does, and a teenager always needs a friend!
Moggy was a real hunter and the house was always full of dead things. One night he caught a live mouse and my sisters rescued it. Many years later they explained how they had shut the mouse in the bathroom and played with it for about an hour. Days later I remember waking up to hear scratching noises in my bedroom. I saw something run across the floor, but when I yelled out for my mum and dad to check, they told me I must be having a nightmare. Apparently, my sisters – who shared the bedroom next door – just looked at each other guiltily. The mouse (as mice do) had escaped from the bathroom, but they had been too frightened to tell anyone. It was now running freely around the house!
I think the worst moment came when I woke up one night to hear crunching on the landing. Moggy had caught a baby rabbit. Even though I was now awake, it was still a horrible nightmare. Moggy growled protectively over his catch as my dad chased him out of the house. Ugh! But cats are cats, and I loved him just the same. I was devastated when he died, and a visit from the other side would have reassured me so much.
When my husband and I were first married we decided to get a cat of our own. A house never seemed like a home without one. I missed my old tom cat and we chose another ginger tom. We called him Charlie. He used to skit about the floor in a bizarre zigzag movement and I nearly tripped over him several times. One day he ran into the path of my poor husband, who fell awkwardly on the floor. Unfortunately, John’s shoe caught Charlie’s back foot and the cat let out a terrible screech. We rushed him to the vet – Charlie had broken his back leg.
I’ll never forget how he looked with that plaster on. His leg had been bandaged straight out and he dragged it behind him. But we needn’t have worried; he coped very well. For six weeks he continued his crazy antics, except that he would clomp his leg on the door frames as he ran through!
Charlie was a bruiser with attitude. He never sat on your lap and you always felt that he stayed around because he had nothing better to do. When he wanted feeding he would come up to us and rub himself up against our legs or purr loudly in my ear. If we didn’t pay attention quickly enough, we had about one whole minute before he would start to get angry about it.
Stage two would involve him patting us with his paw, but the purring would have stopped. He would keep nudging us and walk towards the kitchen as if to say, ‘Come on, then – follow me, you stupid owners!’
God help you if you missed the second signal. Stage three was painful. He would jump up and bite us and then run for it! We did learn never to shout at him, because he always got his own back. Charlie used to hide and wait for the perfect moment. His favourite place was at the bottom of the stairs, and when we walked down he would pounce on us as if we were his prey! Several times he drew blood … It hurt!
When we were first married we owned a cheap pine and canvas sofa. Charlie would run along the underside, clinging onto the canvas. Backwards and forwards he would go, and you had to watch out for your tights. We kept him for many years, and when we moved house I became pregnant. We were worried about how we might cope with a cat and a baby in the house, but sadly Charlie got run over on the main road shortly before I had my first baby. He had been aggressive and mean, but we loved him dearly and again I cried a lot when he died.
One night several months later I woke up to feel the familiar padding of his paws on the bed and I forgot for a moment that he had died. When I sat up in bed I could even see the circular space where he’d been sitting, but of course he was only there in spirit. It was as if he had come to say goodbye. This was my first experience of animal contact from beyond the grave.
Ten years later we were burgled in that house and so we bought a dog. But Brandy kept running away, so we had to get her rehomed by the RSPCA. I cried again – a lot – but buying a dog at this time (a boisterous collie cross) had been a big mistake; it was really stressful. Even though Brandy was still alive I grieved her loss – I recall crying every day for over six weeks after she went. I vowed never to have any more pets, but, you guessed it … several years later we picked up two rescue kittens.
I found the first one in a local pet shop. You could still buy kittens that way then, and I was horrified to see this little black cat, dirty and scruffy-looking, curled up in a small rabbit-sized cage.
My husband had not been keen on getting any more pets, so I secretly arranged for the kitten to be collected while he was at work. I emailed him a picture of a black kitten with the message: ‘I live with you now’ (pretty mean of me, wasn’t it?). I was hoping that once he came home and saw this fluffy bundle he would fall in love with it, and to a certain extent he did! I gave John permission to name the cat (another sneaky technique). He was a long-haired black kitten with a white patch under his chin – John called him DJ, because it looked like he was wearing a dinner jacket. He grew up to be a very attractive cat indeed.
DJ had been living with us for a week before I picked up the second kitten. Portia was a tiny female tabby and she never left my side. She was timid and shy and yet loved attention. If she couldn’t sit on my lap she would curl herself around my shoulders. Both cats were gentle and sweet. DJ was happy to be fussed over and would sit on your lap if you put him there.
Both cats were also happy to be played with. When my two daughters were small they would often dress the cats up in dolls’ clothes and push them around in their pushchairs. The cats would just purr loudly! They were very forgiving and loved the attention.
One day, the girls were following the cats around pretending to be cats themselves. It was a fun game. Georgina, my youngest, was curled up on the sofa next to Portia, who was sleeping, and Charlotte was mimicking DJ, who was bouncing around the furniture.
