Do you feel a "spiritual" or special connection to any of your pets? Do you feel like any of them "called" out to you?

I had just had a Westie, that I loved with all my heart, die about a week ago, before I just felt like going to the animal shelter to look around. I was looking at some german shephard puppies, really young, when this black dog, with a big patch of bloody skin jumped up in the cage next to them, and it was like she was saying "Pick me, pick me! "I let her lick my hand through the cage, but I actually said to her, "you look like a princess, but I already had a black dog like you, and I am looking for something different".

I went home, and my husband said I was crazy to even be looking. He didn't want another dog, but I just kept thinking about her. I talked to my daughter about her, and how I just kept thinking she should be with us.

So the next day she came with me to look at her, and she said, Mom, She is Xena, Warrior Princess! We have to take her! "She has been with us 11 years now, my constant companion.

Anyone else feel like a dog has talked to you? Asked by Kar* 45 months ago Similar questions: feel spiritual special connection pets called Pets.

Similar questions: feel spiritual special connection pets called.

Bert and Gertrude, my kama'aina kitties! I've been trying to answer this question for the past 5 days, but there's so much I want to say that everything seems to clog up in my head and I don't know where to start. I'm a cat person and I've had some wonderful cats.

But these guys were something else. I know this isn't going to do them justice, but here goes: In 1984, I just moved with my military spouse from the mainland to Hawaii. Sounds great, but he was almost immediately deployed and I was left alone in a strange place, knowing no one.No friends, no family, no job, no kids.

No pets. I was very young and very lonely. The day I took my husband to the airport I was feeling very low.

We left the housing area which was on the Ewa end of Oahu amidst an area that was still solid canefields. A two-lane road cut through the fields from the base to the main drag, but once you were in the middle of it, it looked like the whole world consisted of nothing but canefields.My husband was driving and suddenly he pulled to the side of the road and made a u-turn. "What?

" I asked, but he didn’t say. He goes back a ways, pulls over and says, "Open the door. " I open the door and look down and there were two little kittens, about 6 weeks old neatly parked side by side, looking up at me.

Completely without fear. They looked like they were waiting for the number 5 bus or something. I reached down and picked them up.

They immediately fired up the motors and started purring."Yick! " I exclaimed, examining their little flea-ridden bodies. "There’s more flea than cat!"

We took them back home and stuck them in the bathroom before resuming our trip to the airport. I named them Bert (plain brown tabby) and Gertrude (beautiful calico) and right away, they changed my life and my outlook. Instead of dreading leaving my husband and going home to an empty house, I couldn’t wait to get back to them.

They’d given me a purpose--something to love and to take care of. And they took care of me, too, giving me their furry, unconditional love and companionship. Considering the way we found them, it was almost magical because they were such happy, well-adjusted cats.

They just seemed to radiate love and affection and all things positive. They travelled all around the country with us as my husband got transferred, and became part of the family, especially as it turned out we never had kids. Gertrude lived for 15 years and Bert, almost 18.

I'll miss them for the rest of my life. Sometimes I wonder if we all became so especially close because they were so sick at first, and I was always there, but mostly I think that there really was something special about my "kama'aina kitties. " They were as easy-going, laid-back and as friendly as the people of the islands.

They loved everybody and they had no fear. And they were such characters. Nothing seemed to faze them.

Except big dogs. Early one morning, I was awakened by the sound of a dog barking, followed by a crash like someone was trying to come through the front door. I ran outside, and saw that a big dog had chased Bert up a tree.

I shooed the dog away and tried to coax him down. Then I climbed the tree after him. I was barefoot and in my nightgown, and the tree was prickly and hard to climb.

I reached where he was and grabbed his front leg. As soon as he felt me grab him he went totally limp and fell off his perch. He cuddled and complained up a storm, but it was like holding a bag of wet cement.

I couldn't get him to hang on to me to make it easier for me to climb. He knew he was safe, and didn't see why he should expend the extra energy. He was like that his whole life.

If he was in my lap, nothing could bother him. I could take him to the vet and the Hounds of Hell could come barging in, but as long as he was on my lap, he'd just sit there watching them, never even flinching. I've never had a cat trust me like that before or since.

They delighted in creating little routines. There were three palm trees on the way to my door. I'd come home from work and they'd come running to meet the car.As I approached each palm tree they'd run up the trunk just to proper petting level.

I'd pet each one three times, then they'd jump to the next tree and do it all over again--all three trees. I never taught them this, they devised it all by themselves. We used to call Gertrude "Dirty little Gertie," because her personal hygiene skills were sadly lax.

Luckily, she was perfectly okay with being washed and would sit calmly in the sink and let me do my thing. You didn't even have to hold on to her. She liked being fussed over, and any kind of attention was better than none, I guess.

Bert always seemed to be getting into trouble. One time when we were painting the house, my husband was standing with a paint roller hanging by his side, and Bert walked up to the roller and head-butted it, trying to rub on it. He rubbed it all the way down his body, effectively "skunking" himself.

Luckily it was latex paint and fairly easy to clean off. Then there was the time we were preparing Christmas dinner and Bert jumped up on the counter. He was standing over the bayberry candle, just hanging out.

I think he must have liked the warmth on his belly, but all of a sudden my mom yells out, "The cat's on fire! " And I look up and he's standing there with a totally bland expression on his face, black smoke pouring off of his belly area. I grabbed him by his legs, turned him upside-down and dunked him in the dish pan.

I set him on the floor, he shook himself and blinked at me. Later, in California, we had the "pied piper" routine. For some reason, our mailbox in our development was halfway up our street.

I'd collected two more "stray" cats by this time, and when I'd come home from work at night, I'd drive up to the mailbox and all four cats would come trailing up the street to the car. Bert and Gert, however, would hop in to the car for the ride home. Later, my neighbor told me that she and her husband used to watch for me to get the mail so they could watch the performance.

There are so many things I could say, so many little stories like the above I could add, but I guess this is long enough. They're gone now, and although I miss them terribly, I feel that they were one of the best gifts life had given me--at a time when I needed them most.In a world full of special animals, these were my two little angels.

Love at first sight. Actually, I pretty much fall in love with every dog I meet, but from the moment I saw Porter at the King County Animal Shelter, I knew he was the one for me. All the other dogs were anxious, pacing, or barking.

Porter sat very calm and still and just watched me. I got the impression of a wise and gentle soul. It turned out to be a false impression.

He must have banged his head on the concrete wall and stunned himself because from the moment they let him out of the cage he was a hell on wheels. He never calmed down again until I'd had him for about a year. But it was too late for me.

He tricked me into falling in love with him in that first instant. Then I was stuck with him no matter how many times I threatened to take him back to the shelter if he didn't calm down. Now he's almost nine years old.

He sleeps about 23 hours a day. He's plenty calm, and I miss the holy terror he used to be. Porter talked me into getting a puppy for him, and then I eventually reasoned that three dogs shouldn't be much more work than two, so I am very happy to have three large black dogs.

They are the most important thing in my life. All the people in my life know that my dogs come first. We took one vacation without the dogs, but I spent the whole time worrying about them at the boarding kennel.

Since that time, I only travel to places where the dogs can come with us. Dogs have taken over my life, and I'm very happy about it. All three of them speak to me very plainly.

Their gestures and looks speak more than words possibly could. Every once in a while, the youngest will just look at me as if she has something specific in mind. If I pay attention to her, it comes to me pretty quickly what she wants.

She thinks I can read her mind, and I suppose I can in a way. I would not want to go to any heaven if my dogs weren't waiting there for me. Video One of my favorite videos of them..

It happened to me with Sparky...and Spike called out to my husband A local shelter put an ad in the paper...a Dalmatian mix puppy had been abandoned and was up for adoption. We went to the shelter to check her out. Here was 7 pounds of pure energy...one ear up, one ear down...and, for me, it was 'love at first sight'.

Many people had come to see her but the shelter worker could see we were a match 'meant to be'. We brought her home...and it not time flat, Sparky was up on the kitchen table, unwrapping miniature peanut butter cups from the candy bowl. Sparky was the love our lives for 14 years and having to put her to sleep the day before my hubby's birthday last year was absolutely heartbreaking.

We weren't ready, but she was.... When Sparky was about a year old, Jack spotted a picture in the paper..a big, male Dalmatian that had been given up. Usually, when they put their picture in the paper, it's their last chance for adoption. So off we went to another shelter...Jack, Sparky and I...to meet this big brute.

Spike had a mean face, I didn't take to him at all..but Jack wanted to give him a chance. They let him out of his cage into the fenced enclosure...and this dog ran 20 laps around the building. Against my better judgement, we brought Spike home.

He and Jack got along just fine...he liked Sparky OK...but this beast hated me. When Monday came along, and Jack left for work...Spike would pin me up against the wall in the bathroom and just glare at me. Over a short time, he bit and drew blood from 3 people, had to be quarantined...finally, I'd had it.

I told Jack, either this dog goes or I do. We made an appointment at the Vet's to have Spike put down. As Spike sat on the pink blanket, and the Vet came in with the fatal shot...I just couldn't let him do it.

For the same price, the Vet said he'd file his teeth flat...at least he couldn't bite and draw blood any more. When we all got back home, Spike was a changed dog. He seemed to understand.

He became a loving pet, never tried to bite anyone again...and is still with us today. He's 14 and having health issues..but he's one happy dog...a great pet, he even loves all the cats.

She isn't a dog, although she growls and plays tug of war like a puppy... and yes, she did call out to me. I had an acquaintance buy a "used" parrot, and then proceed to not socialize with her. Part of her vocabulary is to use an inflection of "come here" and lift her foot when she wants to be held.

One day I offered her my arm when she said that, and she came onto my arm. When I tried to put her back on her cage, I would swear she mumbled in my ear, "just give me five more minutes" later, when I had her with me on the road, I woke up one morning to a cheerful " Daddy! " and when I picked her up, she mumbled in my ear, "I'm your little baby, right?"

Yes, I did end up buying her, and she is still with me. She doesn't spend quite as much time on me as she used to, because I'm married, with curious dogs and cats, but she is still definitely my baby. However, I have never heard either of those two phrases ever again..

One time... Years ago, my first wife and I worked 40 miles apart but could only afford one car. Since she worked in the city she could take a train back and forth, but of course my part was to be at the station when she got back in the afternoon. One day while waiting for her train to arrive, I spied a small black kitten roaming the parking lot (obviously abandoned and not feral).

After a few minutes, she came over to our car, jumped on the hood, walked around to the open window next me and curled up on my neck and went to sleep. We took her home, a friend of my wife's named her "Boo" ( which stuck, and at least wasn't "Blackie" or "Snowball"), but it soon became clear that she was my cat despite a marvelous tendency to treat everyone she met as a friend. Boo was with me for 18 years and three wives before she finally had to be put to sleep.

Her last two days were spent curled up on the bed alongside me while I stroked her and told her what a good friend she had been. Ten years later her ashes are still in an urn on the mantel in the family room. I imagine they'll be buried with me.

There are some really good stories about us, but quite frankly I'm tearing up just remembering.

I forgot to tell you mine are pets that feel like the kids I never had.

I had just had a Westie, that I loved with all my heart, die about a week ago, before I just felt like going to the animal shelter to look around. I was looking at some german shephard puppies, really young, when this black dog, with a big patch of bloody skin jumped up in the cage next to them, and it was like she was saying "Pick me, pick me! "I let her lick my hand through the cage, but I actually said to her, "you look like a princess, but I already had a black dog like you, and I am looking for something different".

I went home, and my husband said I was crazy to even be looking. He didn't want another dog, but I just kept thinking about her. I talked to my daughter about her, and how I just kept thinking she should be with us.

So the next day she came with me to look at her, and she said, Mom, She is Xena, Warrior Princess! We have to take her! "She has been with us 11 years now, my constant companion.

Anyone else feel like a dog has talked to you? Asked by Kar* 49 months ago Similar Questions: feel spiritual special connection pets called Recent Questions About: feel spiritual special connection pets called Pets.

Similar Questions: feel spiritual special connection pets called Recent Questions About: feel spiritual special connection pets called.

Bert and Gertrude, my kama'aina kitties! I've been trying to answer this question for the past 5 days, but there's so much I want to say that everything seems to clog up in my head and I don't know where to start. I'm a cat person and I've had some wonderful cats.

But these guys were something else. I know this isn't going to do them justice, but here goes: In 1984, I just moved with my military spouse from the mainland to Hawaii. Sounds great, but he was almost immediately deployed and I was left alone in a strange place, knowing no one.

No friends, no family, no job, no kids. No pets. I was very young and very lonely.

The day I took my husband to the airport I was feeling very low. We left the housing area which was on the Ewa end of Oahu amidst an area that was still solid canefields. A two-lane road cut through the fields from the base to the main drag, but once you were in the middle of it, it looked like the whole world consisted of nothing but canefields.

My husband was driving and suddenly he pulled to the side of the road and made a u-turn. "What? " I asked, but he didn’t say.

He goes back a ways, pulls over and says, "Open the door. " I open the door and look down and there were two little kittens, about 6 weeks old neatly parked side by side, looking up at me. Completely without fear.

They looked like they were waiting for the number 5 bus or something. I reached down and picked them up. They immediately fired up the motors and started purring.

"Yick! " I exclaimed, examining their little flea-ridden bodies. "There’s more flea than cat!

" We took them back home and stuck them in the bathroom before resuming our trip to the airport. I named them Bert (plain brown tabby) and Gertrude (beautiful calico) and right away, they changed my life and my outlook. Instead of dreading leaving my husband and going home to an empty house, I couldn’t wait to get back to them.