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In college, I moved into a house with three other people. I was the first to notice our ghost cat. It would try to trip me when I was carrying laundry, and I would "see" it going around the corner every now and then. I told my roommate, a fellow cat-lover, and soon she reported seeing the cat as well. One night, she was sure there was a cat sitting next to her while she watched TV.
One of our other housemates thought we were crazy ... and derisively named our ghost cat Figment. If something was missing in the house, she would say, "Maybe Figment took it" and shake her head while we considered the possibility. Then one day, I arrived home and she was upset -- she had seen Figment for herself, and it freaked her out.
We decided that Figment was trying to tell us we needed to adopt a cat of our own. When we called the landlord to get permission, we asked if there was ever a cat living in the house. He confirmed an older woman had lived there with a cat, but he didn't think she had it when she moved out.
A week later we brought our newly adopted cat, Gizmo, home and never saw Figment again. Gizmo became my cat upon graduation and was my companion for 17 years. Unfortunately, I haven't received a visit from him since his passing in June 2008.
-- Susan Norris, McCandless
My family has lived with cats since I was 5, but Selena was the first cat that I had when I moved out on my own. I was 21 when I got her from the Western Pennsylvania Humane Society. She was 8 months old, pure black with yellow-green eyes.
She was with me through five changes of residence, two engagements and several boyfriends. Just three months shy of her 17th birthday, she died of old age.
A month later, I walked down the steps and was about to turn the corner when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her standing there. It was for just a brief moment, long enough for me to react and change the course of my next steps. When I turned to look at the spot where I saw her, she was gone.
The image that I saw was more transparent than solid and when I looked straight at it, it wasn't there. This has happened several times in the 13/4 years since Selena died.
It gives me a warm feeling when I see her; I know she is happy and no longer old with stiff joints and failing eyesight.
-- Christine McIntosh, Baldwin Borough
On June 25, 1996, our dog, Zelda, was born in our house. Her mother, Jesse, had six puppies and we kept one. Zelda was a beautifully sleek, white Australian dingo shepherd with an IQ that appeared to be higher than most people I know.
When Zelda was 5, we got another female puppy named Roki, an Australian shepherd/Labrador retriever mix. Roki was the more docile of the two and took her cues from Zelda. Unfortunately at age 12, Zelda died suddenly from cancer and was buried in our backyard.
My family and I were devastated. Soon after I could still feel her presence in the house. Sometimes late at night I would see shadows in the hallway and think it was her, but then quickly realized that she was dead. The shadows looked like silhouettes of Zelda in a white mist that resembled a spider web being blown away by a strong wind.
A few months ago we adopted a male blond Labrador named Chase.
Chase slept in my bed and Roki slept in the living room. One night I was walking through the hallway and heard claws clicking behind me on the hardwood floor. Then I felt a dog behind me and a breath on my thigh. I turned and said, "Get out of my way, Chase," but he wasn't there; it was just a very fuzzy version of Zelda, like a hologram, that quickly disappeared. Last month [December 2009], I was playing fetch with Roki and Chase in the backyard. I threw a dog toy for Roki to retrieve, and when he was running back to me, he tripped over Zelda's grave. The very next time I threw the toy, Chase went after it; oddly, he also tripped when running over Zelda's grave. So I walked over to the grave but there was nothing there. I wondered if it could be Zelda playing with them.
Every day I say hello to Zelda when I take the dogs outside, and we share quiet moments when I drink my morning coffee on the front porch. Somehow I know she hears me when I talk to her about our family. I miss my Zella Bella.
-- Kathy Preksta, Munhall
I adopted an all-white cat, Miss Puss, from a shelter. She was my first pet.
One of her favorite things to do was take a long nap on top of the living-room television, where it was warm and cozy. She would jump up through the back of the entertainment center and make her way up to the top of the TV, so I know that sound very well.
I had to put Miss Puss to sleep on Dec. 22, 2008, after her kidneys stopped functioning.
In the following weeks, I could hear the sound of digging in the room where her litter box used to be. However, more frequently, I can hear the thump of her jumping into the back of the entertainment center and the creaking of the TV as she jumps on top for a nice nap.
It's comforting and, yet, a little sad, to hear the sounds of something I took for granted when she was alive. I think she comes around from time to time to let me know she's OK.
-- Melissa Beca, Hopewell
In July 2009, I was visiting my parents' house and spending the night in my old bedroom. Our beloved family dog, Woody, had passed away a few months earlier, on March 5, and we were still grieving. Woody used to be my favorite part of going back home, and he always slept in my bed with me when I visited.
After Woody passed, my parents adopted another brown dog, Winnie.
I had just settled into bed and closed my eyes when I distinctly felt a dog jump into my bed and lay down beside me. When there was no dog there, I convinced myself that I was having a wonderful dream about Woody and went to sleep.
When I woke up the next morning, my mom came into my room and said, "The strangest thing happened last night." I blurted out, "You saw Woody!"
And she had. My mom said she had gotten up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and on her way back, in the darkness, she saw a brown dog leave my room. She assumed it was her new dog, Winnie, and thought the dog would follow her back to her bedroom. But when she got to her room -- Winnie was already there, sound asleep, and the second brown dog was gone. We're sure it was Woody.
-- Jolene Miklas, Regent Square
We had to put down our 11-year-old black Labrador, Mia, on Sept. 14, 2009; she had a tumor on her liver. About a week after her passing, I walked out onto my deck and immediately looked to my left where the steps leading to the yard are located. I was positive I heard her running up the three steps and across the deck like she did so many times.
The week before she died, I was out-of-state on vacation. She died the day after I returned. When I later told my vet how well she was doing the last few days of her life, he told me, "She waited for you to get home." I just laughed, but then he said, "No, I know she did. I've seen it before in my practice."
Early October, we purchased a 10-week-old black Lab puppy who spends a lot of time for whatever reason sitting on top of Mia's grave in our back yard.
-- George Patterson, Hopewell
Do you remember that Willie Nelson song called, "For All the Girls I Loved Before"? If I would write or sing a song, it would be called "For All the Dogs I Loved Before."
When I was growing up, our front porch was the hang-out for all of the neighborhood dogs. One of the last dogs that we had at our family home was called Chubby. He would take turns sleeping on each of the family members' beds at night. You might be half asleep and you would feel the mattress springs vibrate as Chubby would jump up to briefly share your warmth.
After he died, we were all devastated. But I swear that some nights, I continued to feel the movement of the mattress as if some phantom dog jumped up on it. I knew Chubby was gone, but it gave me warmth to my heart, ... a sign that maybe his spirit is still here. What else could it be? We're not living in an earthquake-prone area.
Now all grown up and in my own home, I and my significant other lived 12 wonderful years with a wonderful Cairn terrier named Jim before he passed away Oct. 24, 2002. We didn't wait too long (five weeks) before adopting another Cairn terrier from the same breeder. The new dog's name was Petey.
Petey, now 7, will stick close to my side and there will be times that I will be unaware that he is with me. If I am working at the computer, I may catch what I think is sight of him out of my left eye, and then I hear a noise at my foot. I realize that Petey has been sitting under my chair the entire time and what I saw was not Petey. It can be a little disquieting, at first. I know it's Jim.
Each year on the anniversary of Jim's death, we pull out his ashes which are in a brown paper bag, plus several photos of him. We light a candle and while we are having a glass of wine, we make a toast to Jim's life. There are many smiles and tears as we recount some of the anecdotes of Jim's all-too-short life.
My thought is that, if heaven doesn't allow dogs up there, I'm not going either.
-- Louise Gray, Shadyside
We said goodbye to our beloved Tootie in November 2007. She made it to 17-1/2 years -- the Methuselah of Cocker Spaniels.
She spent the final years of her life without hearing. As a result, she either stuck to us like glue or monitored our comings and goings from her favorite "I-can-see-it-all-from-right-here" spot atop a staircase.
Since she died I swear I've seen her perched at the top of the stairs, still watching us. Maybe it was a trick of the light or maybe I just need new glasses. But that doesn't explain why I once heard the "tick-tick-tick" of her paws clicking down the hallway at night, nearly a year after her death.
Am I being haunted by my dog? I doubt it; it's more likely that my mind wants to see and hear her, so it does. But, who really knows?
-- Gary Miller, Harrisburg
I had my beautiful German shepherd, Liebchen, since she was 6 weeks old. She was born in March 1993 and was the most beautiful, perfect dog anyone could ever have.
In July 2005, when my son was 5 months old, I had to do the most heartbreaking thing I ever had to do: have Liebchen put to sleep. I was blessed that our caring vet came to our home to do it.
Liebchen had many physical problems in her last few months of life. She could hardly walk, her hair was falling out in large clumps and there were other problems.
After she died, I was in a horrible depression and cried for days and months. I felt guilty that maybe I did the wrong thing by putting her to sleep, but in reality, I knew it was the only humane thing to do.
One night, I had a "dream," although I fully believe it was Liebchen appearing to me to put me at ease with her passing.
In the visit, I was in a beautiful park in the middle of fall, my favorite season. All at once, Liebchen came racing through the grass toward me with my grandmother's deceased dog, Rocky. Every one of Liebchen's illnesses were gone. Her hair was so long and beautiful again, her eyes were perfectly clear, and her legs were strong.
Rocky was 17 when he died; he was no longer able to walk and had a large tumor on his stomach. In this "visit" he, too, was running around, had gained all of his weight back and the tumor was gone.
I came to realize that this was "doggie heaven" and that Liebchen and Rocky wanted me to know that they are fine and it was time for them to be in heaven when we had let them go. They were both happy and healthy and doing things that they loved.
I fully believe that they really did "visit" me and it wasn't just a dream. I could actually smell their fur and was able to communicate with them in a way that I heard their voice. Most people wouldn't believe this to be true, but I know that all true animal lovers believe that this could happen.
-- Kristen Dulski, Spring Hill
After my beloved cat, Chelsea, was euthanized due to cancer, I felt her presence a lot. I would hear her run up the wooden stairs to the second floor and could feel her in my bed.
Six months after she passed, the neighborhood girls brought me a tiny, fluffy kitten in need of a home. She looked nothing like Chelsea but compared to my 2 other soon-to-be rescued cats, she had a personality so close to Chelsea that I thought surely she had been sent by an angel to comfort me. And sure enough, very shortly after welcoming this new bundle into my home, I listened but in vain. I could no longer hear or feel Chelsea's presence.
I believe that my new cat was sent to me and I also believe that I will see Chelsea on the other side.
-- Susan Booth, South Side
My dog, Asher, passed away a few years ago from a seizure. He was around 15 years old or more, and we had him since he was a pup.
I was partially responsible for his birth due to accidently letting his mother out from my brother's home office, where I was working at the time. The Friday before my brother went on vacation, he told me when I come in on Monday not to let his dog out of the garage because she was in heat. I forgot. As soon as I opened up the garage door she ran out and over to the neighbor's dog, which was a German shepherd.
About six weeks later she had puppies. We took one of the pups from the litter and named him Asher. He was black and looked just like a black wolf.
When he died I took it really hard and cried for about three days. On the fourth day I was starting to come to terms with accepting his passing, and around 9 p.m., while reading in bed with my wife, I heard Asher walk up the steps and down the hall to where our bedroom is. I jumped out of bed and ran to the door. When I opened it, he was gone.
He waited around until he knew I was OK, and that was his way of saying goodbye.
-- Mark Steven Tomecek, Lebanon, Lebanon County (formerly of Stowe and West Park)
We lost our 14-1/2-year-old little gray tabby cat, Elfie, on Oct. 15, 2009, and I've since heard her. But we've been seeing Elfie's adopted mom, Cindy the Calico, ever since she died in 2005.
When I spot Cindy, it's always out of the corner of my eye -- just a little flickering movement near the floor. And I've turned to get a better look and seen a black and orange tail vanishing into thin air.
Cindy's ashes are on the mantel, and the first time I saw her she was in front of the fireplace under that spot. But she can show up pretty much anywhere. My daughters Leah and Karen see Cindy, too.
After Cindy died, we thought Elfie might need another cat to keep her company. Somehow "another" cat turned into three other cats. ... With all those kitties in the house, Cindy didn't show up too often in recent years. But several weeks ago, I was in my bedroom with the door closed, no cats in the room, and I saw the calico colors flickering over in the corner. I looked up just in time to catch the disappearing tail.
-- Mary DeVaughn, Oakland
Doug Oster writes a blog, "Growing With Doug," exclusively at PG+, a members-only web site of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Our introduction to PG+ gives you all the details.
