About eight years ago, our beloved schnauzer/poodle mix dog died of a heart attack in his crate. A few nights later, I woke up during the night and saw him standing at the bedroom door, only he was all white, instead of the grey mix color. I called out his name, and he walked over to the side of the bed. I reached out my hand to pet him, and he vanished.
Sweet story. He loved you a lot.
The tv was on in the background this morning with a show about the ghost psychics, the Warrens. No, I don’t believe those shysters one bit but happened to hear the show talking about the Amityville husband waking up at 3:15 every morning. Our pets have always woken us up right around 3:15 to be let outside. I read years ago that’s the time when plants give off their pollen which tends to wake people so nothing spooky with that. Of course, ymmv depending on which plants in the area.
“I reached out my hand to pet him, and he vanished.”
That happened to me a couple times back in 2003 after my kitty, Duchess, died. She walked to the side of the bed and put her paws up on the side, as she always did. I reached out; she was gone.
It still happens to my husband whose favorite kitty, Ginger, died in August.
I guess our subconscious tries to slowly help us cope with loss.