Phantom Felines And Other Ghostly Animals - Gerina Dunwich 2006
JoJo, Uncle Willard, and Me
Phantom Felines
by Lee Prosser
One of my most unusual ghostly encounters involved a petite black cat with green eyes. Her name was JoJo, and she belonged to Willard David Firestone, an uncle of mine who lived with me in Missouri until his death from cancer in 1979.
Uncle Willard was a composer and pianist and played one of the best forms of stride piano around. He was also an adept of many occult systems of magick and taught them to me. There was an incredible, enduring bond between JoJo and Uncle Willard, and the cat oftentimes accompanied him on walks. She was also the guard cat of the house, so to speak.
By the spring of 1989, JoJo had developed a form of eye cancer, which spread rapidly. She had the charming habit of coming up on the edge of my bed and purring loudly as she watched me awake. JoJo’s one good eye was always full of mischief and humor, as if to say, the cancer got the other one and turned it cloudy but this one still has blue skies for seeing!
Late one night I thought I heard JoJo cry, but when I turned on the light there was no sign of her. In the morning I awoke to find her lifeless body hanging on the edge of the bed. Dying, she had made it to the right corner of the bed and sunk her claws into the bedding. Her head was on the mattress, both eyes staring toward me. That big blind eye seemed larger than usual. I took her from the bed, said a special prayer for her, and buried her quietly within the hour.
Four days later JoJo came back to visit me. I had been listening to classical music by Antonio Vivaldi, an Italian composer. It was nearing midnight and I went to bed. I recall sensing a presence close to me, and it woke me. I turned on the nightstand light and got out of bed. The room seemed abnormally quiet, as if within a deep peaceful slumber. I went into the kitchen, got a small glass of cool water, drank it, and went back to my bedroom. On the right corner of the bed sat the spirits of my Uncle Willard and his cat JoJo. The cat now had two good eyes and seemed delighted to see me. Uncle Willard was as I recalled him: white-haired and muscular, a wiry man with a lot of magick inside him.
The image of these two ghosts before me was clear and lasted a full moment. It was a beautiful moment for me. Uncle Willard and JoJo, united again in a world without pain and in a world without sorrow. I honored their presence with a deeply thought wave of love, sweeping out from me to them, and I felt that love return with equal kindness and joy. Then as if to signal good-bye, JoJo flicked her tail and Uncle Willard smiled. They vanished.
To this day, I cherish the memory of both, and it was a wonderful way of sharing with me the truth that death is only another beginning to a new journey in the afterlife. The memory of this ghostly encounter is as vivid today as it was when it happened.