Ghost Dogs

By Kathleen J. Shields

“I see dead dogs.”

As a toddler, Jamie’s pulled from the clutches of death by his loving dog Sal. His awakening gives him the ability to see ghost dogs.
Growing up with this gift has its ups and downs. Among those are harsh conversations, difficult choices, and a unique responsibility to do something good.

Understanding why will always be a curiosity. Doing the right thing may come at a cost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erin Go Bragh Publishing
• Release date: Jun 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370828982

Kathleen J. Shields

Kathleen J. Shields is an award winning author, having won first place for Best Educational Children's Series from the Texas Association of Authors in 2015, and the Purple Dragonfly Award in 2017 for the Hamilton Troll Cookbook. She has 27 published books ranging from illustrated children's books, tween chapter books, young adult and adult, as well as Christian Fiction. She is currently working on the third book of The Painting Trilogy, her memoirs, along with a fun factual story called Turtle Diaries. Her hope is to teach young readers more interesting tidbits about various turtle species through the first person perspective of a tortoise. During the week, she runs her own businesses (plural); a website and graphic design company, and a publishing house where she assists new authors in making their dreams come to reality. Over the weekends, you can usually find her setup at a market day, craft show, church bizarre or any place that will let her setup a table to promote and sell her books, throughout the Texas Hill Country. She also thoroughly enjoys visiting schools and libraries, reading to young children and inspiring 3rd through 5th graders into using their imaginations to embellish their creative writing skills.

Book preview

Kathleen J. Shields

Table of Contents

I see dead dogs

I didn’t exist yet

I answered prayers

I was a happy baby

I love Sal

I hate cancer

I was misunderstood

I like sports

I made a new friend

I couldn’t explain it

I was really upset

I made Mom cry

I felt so helpless

I know where he is

I have so far to go

About the Author

Prologue

I see dead dogs.

I see dead dogs. They’re not the scary pet cemetery movie kind – they look just like they did when they were everyone’s pets, just a bit more transparent.

When I was younger I didn’t realize they were ghost dogs. I just knew they were friendly and fun. Have you ever watched any of those funny dog video compilations? If you have ever burst out laughing, you can understand where I’m coming from. Ghost dogs are wacky. The way they run around and try to pick things up and get frustrated when they can’t. Then they race around the room until they lose their ghost footing and slide right through a chair, a wall – or even me.

I used to get knocked over a lot. My mom thought I couldn’t walk or had some sort of physical problem because whenever a dog came running up to me I’d feel this odd gust of wind, which would make me stumble and fall. There were even times when they would leap up to give me a lick on the face, and I’d fall to the ground giggling.

When I got a bit older I tried to explain what was happening, but the adults thought I had an active imagination. Later on I realized what was happening and was able to explain it better. It was like a magnetic opposite. I could feel an invisible pressure when they were near, so it was like I could feel them. When my mom finally understood and believed me, she told me I couldn’t tell anyone else - that others would think I was crazy.

School used to be hard. I was called a day dreamer and a fidgeter. The first couple of years were the hardest because I was surrounded by ghost dogs in class. I’d watch them play with each other, tussle and roll around. They’d try to chew on pencils, swat at swinging feet and howl when they were bored. That would make me laugh – not a good thing to do when the teacher was talking.

Of course, neither was watching the dogs play, that’s when they said I was daydreaming. Even when I was sitting still with a dog head lying in my lap, they said I was fidgeting because I was petting his head or rubbing his ears. One time, a young puppy tried to pull me from my desk. When I fell out laughing, I was sent to the principal’s office. I had to learn at an early age how to ignore the ghost dogs while I was in school.

I used to be really good at baseball. I was almost a star! I couldn’t hit the ball to save my life, I always got struck out, but I made the best out-fielder on the planet. Ghost dogs love baseball. Well, they love playing catch and with their sixth sense insight they always know where the ball is going to go. All I have to do is follow the ghost dogs and their wagging tails as they race out into the field. When they stop and turn to catch the ball, so do I. They can’t catch the ball. That would be neat to see (if I were normal) but they can’t. I can catch though, and everyone on my team thought I was amazing.

I stopped playing baseball the day a goofy dog arrived on the field. It’s a long story but that wacky dog with wild eyes ended my baseball career with a single leap. It’s okay, I was still really young and it led me to try other sports. You won’t believe how difficult it is to play a sport when there are ghost dogs involved!

Sometimes things move on their own or fall and break. The ghost dogs don’t do it on purpose. Sometimes they get so excited, and their tail is wagging so hard that excitement generates an energy that knocks that knick-knack right off the table. Most people say it must have been the wind or the cat, but it’s really the ghost dogs.

Dogs can show me a person’s personality, too. I’ve learned that no matter how nice someone portrays themselves to be, when a nearby ghost dog is growling or cowering, I know to stay clear and be smart.

I think the most important lesson I learned about ghost dogs was the day I watched a friend’s dog die. It was so sudden, and yet, in that moment, it all became quite clear. My friend was on the ground crying. His heart had been broken and his dog, the ghost dog could feel that. He placed his head on my friend’s lap and just sat there with him. You could see his worry and understanding by the look in his eyes.

Oddly enough, the eyes are the only things that are not transparent on a ghost dog. They are as solid as you and me. Guess it’s because the eyes are the doorway to the soul, and they are the most important aspect for showing emotion.

It’s amazing to know that when they pass away so many dogs actually remain here to watch over us. Sometimes the ones I get used to seeing go away, maybe because they aren’t needed any more. Sometimes they come back just to play. Many don’t have previous owners, maybe they’ve been ghost dogs for so long their humans have moved on or passed on themselves. All I know is they have a ton of fun here on Earth – why would they ever want to leave?

So that’s just a sampling of some of my ghostly adventures. There’s actually a lot to cover in this story, and I hope you don’t mind me starting way, way back. I kind of feel like it’s important to start where I do – you have to meet Sal. I also hope you enjoy my story as much as I’ve enjoyed living it. So far, it’s been quite the life!

Chapter 1

I didn’t exist yet.

She sat on the steps of the city morgue sobbing uncontrollably. Her wailing filled the eerie night air yet didn’t touch another human’s ear. It was late, around three in the morning, and everyone was sound asleep in bed – except her. When the police began knocking at her door she was startled from her slumber. She had fallen asleep on the couch because she wanted to wait for her husband to get home before going to bed. Hours had passed since his last call and she hadn’t realized it.

I’m just leaving the office. I’m so sorry I had to work late tonight.

It’s fine Sweetheart. I’ll stay up.

Oh Honey, it’s late. Please go to bed, he pleaded with her.

No way, someone’s got to be downstairs waiting to give you a welcome home kiss.

I love you. You know that right?

Carrie smiled. Of course I do. I love you too.

Okay. I should be home in about an hour. If you get tired…

I’ll be reading on the couch. Drive safely.

Always.

It had been a nice conversation. They were still newlyweds, still figuring out their pet names, still struggling to be apart from each other and still eager to hold each other’s hands. It had been months of perfect moments. Unfortunately, moments are fleeting.

Ma’am, we are sorry to disturb you at such a late hour. Are you Carrie Kanis?

I am.

Wife of Martin Kanis?

Carrie felt her chest tighten. Her legs began to tremble. Oh God – Martin?

The officer to her left reached for her arm to help steady her. The tears began to pour out of her eyes. Tell me he’s alright. Tell me everything’s fine.

The first officer sighed then continued. Ma’am I’m sorry to tell you…

No! Don’t be sorry. Don’t tell me bad news! Her legs gave out on her. The second officer caught her as she dropped to the ground. On his knees he cradled her. The first crouched down to look her in the eyes.

Carrie, I’m so sorry to have to tell you…

No. Please no.

There was an accident.

The officer continued speaking but Carrie heard nothing but her screaming. Her body became a puddle of goo within the second officer’s arms as she cried out into the dark, cloudy night.

Bedroom lights in homes across the street went on, neighbors eventually made their way out their front doors.

Martin! Carrie screamed into the night air. Martin, please! Please come home! Please!

The second officer cradled her in his arms until she had let a good portion of her shock out. When she began to regain control and take a breath, the first knew he had to speak again. Could you please join us? We need you at the morgue.

The tears began to flow again, but all she could do was grip tightly to the arm of the first officer’s shirt and hide her face in his chest. A couple of neighbors had made their way over to check on her, but they didn’t know her that well. Carrie and Martin had moved in only a week ago. They hadn’t had a chance to meet the neighbors. She hadn’t made any friends in the neighborhood. Her boxes were still packed and piled in the dining room. They hadn’t had a