This morning, as I sat on my deck at the crack of dawn, sipping my first cup of coffee I saw a familiar visage in my backyard.
He looked up at me and flipped me off. Then he sort of sneered and smiled, then winked at me. Two dogs ran around him. Dogs? Nigel has dogs?
Nigel, THE GHOST, has been lingering around my home since 2012. He was murdered in 1986 about 16 or 17 miles from my house. I have no previous connections to him and have no idea why his “haunting place,” or more like his ghost home is at my home. I usually can’t stand Ghosts but have grown quite fond of Nigel in a love hate sort of way.
Today he’d exchanged his black burial suit for a white button down shirt and jeans. As he walked up to my deck he called out to the dogs.
“Hugo, Sugar, come on. Good dogs.”
Dogs? What was a Ghost doing with dogs? I assumed the large German Shepherd was Hugo, and the smaller Golden/Lab/Mystery Mutt dog was Honey.
He sat down in the Adirondack chair next to me. The dog sat at his feet. “Hello Vampire. It has been a while,” he said to me. “Have you killed anyone lately,”
“Not for at least 100 years. Just a second,” I said. I went inside and poured him a cup of coffee. He can’t drink it, but he can smell it.
As I put the coffee down on the arm of the chair I said, “Your dogs… they’re ghosts. How? They seem so sweet.”
Nigel gave me a sad look. “Like me these poor dears were murdered. Hugo was a police dog. He died in the line of duty. End of watch, I guess is what I should say. He was shot by some asshole who’d just beat up his girlfriend. Honey was poisoned by a man who was mad at a co-worker for getting promoted over him.”
“But why are they Ghosts? Don’t all dogs cross over the Rainbow Bridge. Aren’t they good dogs?”
“They’re the best. They missed the bridge. It happens. I found them wandering around the great Ghostly void and took them in. I saw a big black and white cat out there too but I’m still trying to catch it.”
He ran his hand through his shaggy dark hair, and leaned back, then closed his eyes. “You know Juliette, I’ve been trying to figure out the Ghost thing for 40 years. A ghost I know, a guy named Bob who was a Werewolf, told me that sometimes the universe isn’t lined up right and animals miss the bridge. It is sort of like they become cosmic roadkill.”
“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I know.”
“Do you think they could find their way to the Rainbow Bridge at this point?”
“I don’t know where it is. I’ve asked around. I’ve known Ghosts who have seen their dogs and cats cross over, then look back as they’ve been left behind as human Ghosts, forever without their pets. It makes me want to fucking cry.”
“Nigel, did you have any pets?”
“I was going to adopt a couple of kittens before I was murdered but, no, I didn’t have any pets, thank goodness. Someone put a photo of the cats on my grave and wrote a note saying they were doing great and had a good home. That was about 35 years ago.”
Hugo and Honey both came up to me and put their heads on my knees. I could feel a big wet kiss from Hugo on my cheek, but when I reached up my hand to pet him, he vanished.
The next thing I saw was Hugo and Honey running around my yard as my two cats sat on the fence and watched them.
Nigel leaned forward, reached out a hand, and touched the gold German Shepheard charm I wear around my neck.
“You still miss her,” he said.
This morning, as I sat on my deck at the crack of dawn, sipping my first cup of coffee I saw a familiar visage in my backyard.
He looked up at me and flipped me off. Then he sort of sneered and smiled, then winked at me. Two dogs ran around him. Dogs? Nigel has dogs?
Nigel, THE GHOST, has been lingering around my home since 2012. He was murdered in 1986 about 16 or 17 miles from my house. I have no previous connections to him and have no idea why his “haunting place,” or more like his ghost home is at my home. I usually can’t stand Ghosts but have grown quite fond of Nigel in a love hate sort of way.
Today he’d exchanged his black burial suit for a white button down shirt and jeans. As he walked up to my deck he called out to the dogs.
“Hugo, Sugar, come on. Good dogs.”
Dogs? What was a Ghost doing with dogs? I assumed the large German Shepherd was Hugo, and the smaller Golden/Lab/Mystery Mutt dog was Honey.
He sat down in the Adirondack chair next to me. The dog sat at his feet. “Hello Vampire. It has been a while,” he said to me. “Have you killed anyone lately,”
“Not for at least 100 years. Just a second,” I said. I went inside and poured him a cup of coffee. He can’t drink it, but he can smell it.
As I put the coffee down on the arm of the chair I said, “Your dogs… they’re ghosts. How? They seem so sweet.”
Nigel gave me a sad look. “Like me these poor dears were murdered. Hugo was a police dog. He died in the line of duty. End of watch, I guess is what I should say. He was shot by some asshole who’d just beat up his girlfriend. Honey was poisoned by a man who was mad at a co-worker for getting promoted over him.”
“But why are they Ghosts? Don’t all dogs cross over the Rainbow Bridge. Aren’t they good dogs?”
“They’re the best. They missed the bridge. It happens. I found them wandering around the great Ghostly void and took them in. I saw a big black and white cat out there too but I’m still trying to catch it.”
He ran his hand through his shaggy dark hair, and leaned back, then closed his eyes. “You know Juliette, I’ve been trying to figure out the Ghost thing for 40 years. A ghost I know, a guy named Bob who was a Werewolf, told me that sometimes the universe isn’t lined up right and animals miss the bridge. It is sort of like they become cosmic roadkill.”
“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I know.”
“Do you think they could find their way to the Rainbow Bridge at this point?”
“I don’t know where it is. I’ve asked around. I’ve known Ghosts who have seen their dogs and cats cross over, then look back as they’ve been left behind as human Ghosts, forever without their pets. It makes me want to fucking cry.”
“Nigel, did you have any pets?”
“I was going to adopt a couple of kittens before I was murdered but, no, I didn’t have any pets, thank goodness. Someone put a photo of the cats on my grave and wrote a note saying they were doing great and had a good home. That was about 35 years ago.”
Hugo and Honey both came up to me and put their heads on my knees. I could feel a big wet kiss from Hugo on my cheek, but when I reached up my hand to pet him, he vanished.
The next thing I saw was Hugo and Honey running around my yard as my two cats sat on the fence and watched them.
Nigel leaned forward, reached out a hand, and touched the gold German Shepheard charm I wear around my neck.
“You still miss her,” he said.
My German Shepherd Alice crossed over the Rainbow Bridge last February. My heart still breaks when I think about her. I still expect her to be here.
“She was my shadow,” I said.
Nigel took my cool Vampire hand with his cold ghostly hand. “I know Juliette. I know.”
We sat for a while catching up and watching the Ghostly dogs, and the very much alive cats hang out together.
Yes, all dogs go to heaven, and for those who miss their way and become Ghosts, there are foster parents like Nigel out there to take care of them until they get to the Rainbow Bridge.
Stay safe everyone. Go hug your dogs, cats, and everyone else you love. `
Juliette aka Vampire Maman
