Phantom Felines And Other Ghostly Animals - Gerina Dunwich 2006

Sullivan
Hounds and Hauntings

by Erik Bratlien

My wife and our beloved golden retriever, Sullivan, were very close, almost as if they were of a kindred spirit. She bought Sullivan for me for Father’s Day in 2003. But it quickly became evident who Sullivan wanted to be with most. He loved everyone in the family without complaint, but he had an otherworldly connection with my wife. They went everywhere together—on long walks and for long drives in the car.

My wife suffers from depression and Sullivan had been a god send for her. When she was feeling bad, Sullivan was right there to comfort her. I know dogs try to comfort humans if they see them crying, but my wife wouldn’t be crying. She was very closed up and quiet, and Sullivan could sense that she was feeling sad. He would not leave her side for any reason, not even to eat or drink. It was as if he was there to protect her and to watch over her.

When my wife suffered a severe valley of depression, the dog stayed by her side and nudged her with his nose. She gave him a little smile and he would lie back down.

Sullivan started to develop seizures. The vet ran tests to determine the cause and how to best deal with the seizures. I asked the vet if Sullivan had a thyroid problem, and he said the dog was too young to have a problem like that. He determined it was epilepsy, but I didn’t think so. We had to give Sullivan medicine every day to control the seizures; he would have one every thirty days almost like clockwork. He began to have trouble keeping food down so we took him to a specialist and, without checking the dog out, he said, “I bet he has a thyroid problem.” A blood test proved that he did. The specialist said the dog was also suffering from mega-esophagus, a condition in which all the nerves in the throat go dead and the dog can’t keep anything down. Well, being a golden retriever he was too big to force-feed every few hours.

My wife tried to do the force feeding; she wanted to believe he was getting better and that I was wrong and that he didn’t need to be put down. I could look into Sullivan’s eyes and tell he wanted it to end. But even when he was hurting so badly, he was there trying to comfort my wife with her decision to put him down. She was finally able to see he was suffering and that he wanted it to end. We put him down on May 5, 2005.

When we returned home I walked into the bathroom to get my wife a tissue to blow her nose with. I found the cat’s food dish, which we kept on the bathroom counter, laying on the floor. It had been on the counter and I had filled it up before we left to have Sullivan put down. The cats had never once knocked the dish off the counter, but Sullivan used to do it all the time. Later that evening while watching TV, my wife and I heard the noise of dog tags clinking, even though there wasn’t a dog in the house and all of the windows were closed.

That night, after we went to bed and I turned off the lights, the bedroom door swung open and we heard and felt a dog wiggling under our bed like our golden retriever used to do. My wife gave me a smile and tears welled up in her eyes. I kissed her on her forehead and held her all night long. That was the first sign I noticed that our beloved Sullivan was still around. It was his way of letting us know he had come to visit.

On October 7, 2005, I noticed the dish on the floor again and I heard a dog bark at our back sliding-glass door. I thought it was our new dog, Max, but he was sound asleep in my wife’s sewing room with her. I thought that was weird. Another night we were watching a movie and I heard a dog in the kitchen. I hollered, “Max, get in here!” My wife, who was sitting on the couch, said, “He is asleep right next to me.” I quickly looked for all the cats, and all three of them were sitting on the couch by my wife. I looked at my stepson and he had heard it also.

To this day, every once in a while we hear the cat food dish in the bathroom hit the floor and the cat food spill all over. All the cats are accounted for right afterward to rule them out, and our new dog is sound asleep when it happens.

Sullivan is still around and even in death he is here to comfort; he is letting us know it will be okay.