This story isn't a "scary" story, but it affected me a great deal and is among the best of many "spiritual experiences" I've had over the years, and does show that despite the media, all spirits aren't inherently "evil."
In 1983, I worked for a year for the Humane Society. While I love animals, I eventually had to quit, as the abuse, neglect and general inhumane treatment of animals by humans just got overwhelming. However, while there, I adopted a beautiful and loving blue Persian I named Rassilon. (He had been "surrendered" by his previous owners because he had an under bite--somewhat common in Persians--and couldn't be used for breeding. About this, I keep my comments to myself).
Rass and I formed a very special, very close and very special bond. He was mama's boy, and everyone was amazed at how loyal he was and how attached we were (he would follow me from room to room and always slept by me on my pillow at night).
When he was nine years old, he began getting ill. Frequent trips to the vet turned up a lot of speculation, but he didn't improve. Finally, he began hiding, losing weight rapidly, and I knew things were serious. We hospitalized him and after about 24 hours a lots of tests, he didn't even recognize me, meowed pitifully and the vet said he had cancer of the pancreas and wouldn't recover. I had no choice but to let him go. It was the hardest decision of my life. I cried (and my husband as well) literally for days and kept waking up at night thinking he would be there, and coming home from work expecting to see him. Worst of all, I felt as if I hadn't done enough for him.
About six months later, my husband and I went to Yorkshire, England to visit friends. They had know Rassie and knew how much I still missed him. While at their house, we were invited to another couple's house for dinner. They owned three cats, one of which was a beautiful Himmy (Himalayan--sort of a Siamese marked Persian for all you non cat fanciers out there). The first time I walked in their door, this Himmy, Coco, whirled around, looked at me, meowed and came right to me. So what? you ask. Well, she copied, exactly, Rassilon's behavior every night when I came home, right down to the sound of the meow. Coco stayed next to me the entire evening, most of the time laying on her back and letting me softly scratch her tummy, just like Rassie did.
Her owners were amazed. Coco normally was a very aloof cat, not fond of strangers, and they remarked several times throughout the evening about her unusual behavior. I knew immediately it was Rassie coming to tell me he was o.k. The bond I felt with this "new" cat was inexplicable (although I do bond with cats easily), and very strong. Adding further to the "oddness" was Coco's complete indifference--even normal cat wariness--of me less than 24 hours later.
Many people I've met believe animals don't have souls. How can anyone look into their eyes and say that? I feel this experience justifies my belief that, not only do they have souls, they care about and communicate with their beloved humans, even from beyond.
Think of it what you will.
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