Hi everyone. I’m Virginia, eighteen years old. Before
getting to the paranormal part of my story, I really must
give some background info, so bear with me. Ever since I
was a little girl, I had always wanted a Pug dog. I have
always loved dogs, and there hasn’t been a moment in my
life where I’ve not owned at least one dog.
Well, one day,
when I was twelve years old, I was at a neighbor’s house
only two doors down from my house when my mom called to say
she was coming home from running some errands. “I have a
friend of mine with me I’d like you to meet,” she
said. “His name is Tony.” I thought it a bit odd at the
moment, but when she finally got home she came over to our
neighbor’s house with a little off-white ball of fur in her
arms. A tiny head with big eyes and a scrunched- up nose
poked out, sniffing the air. This was the friend, a Pug
puppy named Tony.
Well right then and there I fell in love with that tiny,
round little puppy! Oh, was he cute. Turns out, he was born
the day after my twelfth birthday, so we always included
Tony in my parties. He soon became my best friend, watching
TV with me before bed and sitting outside with me as I
swam. One time I had gotten out of the pool and was heading
for the door inside when I heard a splash! Tony had rounded
a corner too fast and had fallen in the deep end of the
pool. Now, we rarely let him swim unless someone was right
there with him, due to his pushed- in nose. Without a
second thought I dropped my towel and plunged into the
pool, pulling Tony out in time. I don’t think he ever
forgot that. Also, we had a potted patch of yellow flowers
outside, next to our door into the kitchen from the
backyard; they looked a lot like yellow daisies. Every once
in a while I would go out, find the nicest one, come back
inside with it and say, “I have a flower for Tony!” and
stick it in his kennel with him. Tony would sniff it a bit,
and then try to eat it! “No, no, no,” I’d laugh. “You don’t
eat the flower, Tony!”
One night in June of this year I stayed up late, watching
TV as six-year-old Tony sat next to me. Finally, at one in
the morning, I decided it was time for bed, since I was to
go to the movies with a friend the next morning. I told
Tony to get in his kennel for the night, and he did; I
crouched down next to the door to give his ear a scratch
when something told me to call him out again, so I did. I
played with him for a few minutes, giving him a big hug and
a kiss. He was so happy and playful. When he got back in
his kennel I closed him up and said, “You’re my good boy,
Tony. I love you.” With that I went to bed.
The next morning my mother called up to me at about eight
thirty. I could detect slight worry and panic in her voice
despite the fact she was keeping her cool as best she
could. “Ginny,” she called, I think Tony’s sick.”
“Well, okay,” I thought. “Maybe he’s just sick to his
stomach. Nothing medicine can’t cure, am I right?”
Nope. Because when I went into the kitchen, where Tony and
our Chocolate Lab slept at night, the smell just about
knocked me out. Tony wasn’t in his kennel; he had gotten
sick all over the kitchen floor. Maneuvering across the
kitchen, I rounded the corner and into the utility room to
find Tony lying on the floor, panting and foaming at the
mouth. He was in a waking coma. Mom and I wrapped him in
towels; Mom had called the vet, whom we were friends with
(she owns a bunch of pugs), and she said she’d be waiting
for us. So the two of us leapt into the car: Mom drove, and
I held Tony in my lap, talking to him. I started thinking
that this might be his last ride in the car. He always
loved rides in the car.
We dropped him off, and rode home in silence. My friend’s
dad picked me up a short while later, and I told my friend
what was happening. The two of us saw our movies, and after
the second one was over I checked my phone messages. Mom
had called, and she told me that Tony had died at the vet’s
office. There was no chance for him. We were thinking he
had gotten into something poisonous. I couldn’t help but
sit down and bawl my eyes out, right there in the middle of
a crowded mall.
The pain never went away after that. We sent him to College
Station, where Texas A&M University is located, to have an
autopsy done on him to help determine cause of death. Mom
and I had to drive out to pick up his body in a cooler
inside a cardboard box. Right after he died the vet had
taken his paw and made a paw print in clay for us, and also
taken a clipping of his fur from behind his little ear. We
had Tony cremated, and his remains now lie (along with the
fur clipping) in a little wooden box on my windowsill. The
paw print and Tony’s collar are with it.
Anyway, about a week after he died, it was still so hard
for us to even think about him without crying. Then
something very odd happened….. because one morning I woke
up and forgot, thinking about having to get up to feed
Tony, and then I remembered. I pulled myself out of bed
anyway, trying not to cry, when I looked down. Someone had
dropped a yellow daisy by my bed. I checked my door and it
was locked from the inside. My younger brother had spent
the night at a friend’s, and my mom’s room was downstairs
and on the other side of the house. There was no way that
daisy could have gotten there, but it brought me great
comfort.
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