White Angel Dogs? By Rita Swift (mylonnie@pacbell.net)
(Originally appeared in the Intl. Ghost Hunters Society newsletter, Jan 28, 2001. Posted to this site on Feb. 11 2001)

I awoke to the clock radio playing louder than usual. I asked my husband Bill, to turn the music down, for I did not want to wake our six year old daughter sleeping in the next room. I turned to my left turning the radio down, to find my husband fast asleep on his side with his back to me. I rolled over on my back, letting my right hand dangle loosely at the right side of the bed. I remember looking at the night light glowing in the mirror in the master bathroom, and the hanging chain light centered above our bed, starting to swing back and forth so very slightly, when suddenly, I felt warm moist breath and something licking my right hand. I turned to face a very large white Mastiff type dog with piercing blue eyes. Where did it come from, raced through my mind? I can still visualize in my mind the bright pink loose skin around it's eyes and the foaming smelly spit dripping from it's tongue dangling from it's huge sagging pink mouth. The dog seemed only a foot away from my face! It was huge, I would guess 100 pounds. I watched it swallow, and I can remember the muscles in it's neck bulged. My hand felt hot and sticky. I think I screamed and somehow leaped over my sleeping husband to the other side of the king sized bed, dragging all the blankets with me to the floor. Bill grabbed me and seconds later, we experienced a very strong earthquake. I can remember screaming about the white dog, our daughter running to our room jumping on our bed, frightened of the earthquake, and me searching the room with my eyes, trying to find the white dog that vanished. During the earthquake, a tall heavy walnut and brass lamp on my night stand had crashed and fallen over on my pillow. The light bulb had shattered on the headboard right above my pillow, spraying grass on my pillow, and the shade bounced across the bed. It is obvious, if I had remained with my head on the pillow, I would have been severely injured or dead. I love and respect animals, and I do consider dogs, man's best friend. I do not scare easily, so if the white dog was my guardian angel, it had to go to extremes to get me out of harm's way. That was thirty years ago, but I can still see, feel and smell that white dog that saved my life, as if it were only yesterday.

Last summer, I was reading and relaxing at our public library, when my eyes focused on a magazine on a rack. There on the front cover of the magazine was a huge white Mastiff type dog staring from the cover. Sitting to my right was was an elderly lady sitting and also staring at the white dog on the cover of the magazine. Our eyes met, and we starting talking about the dog. I told her my story, and to my amazement, she answered by wanting to tell me about a strange white dog she felt saved her life. She said she had tried to tell the story in the past, but most response was that she was not playing with a full deck, so to speak. Her name was Edna. She was 20 years old living in Dearborn Michigan in 1942. It was middle December, and she was involved volunteering her time at a U S O Canteen for the servicemen. It was about midnight, the canteen was filled with cigarette smoke, loud talk and music. She had been there for six hours and was developing a bad headache. She knew she had to go to business college the next morning. She asked her girlfriend to walk out front with her to get some fresh air. The canteen would be closing in a half hour. She was responsible to stay for cleanup after closing, for everyone volunteered their time. After awhile, her girlfriend, turned and walked through the door into the canteen, and Edna started to follow. Suddenly, a huge white dog came out of the mist and darkness. She described it's face looking like a bull dog with eyes that were so evil. Immediately, it blocked her from entering the door of the canteen. She looked around, but there was no one there, just the dog and her, standing in the darkness surrounded with mist and snow turning to slush around her feet. The dog started forcing her down the street. She could feel it's rib cage rubbing against her legs. During the War, she could not get nylon stockings, so she had to wear bobby sox's with her shoes. She could feel the warm spit from the dog's mouth, running down her right leg, dripping on her sox and shoe. If she slowed down, the dog growled louder and snarled it's mouth, constantly growling as it forced her to walk faster. She suddenly realized the dog was taking her home, knowing where to turn to go directly to her front door. She climbed the wooden steps, to her front door, knowing her parents were in bed. As she reached under the mat to get the key, the dog pushed against her and growled wanting her to go into the house. When she got into the house, she looked out the door window unto the porch, and there was the dog sitting and facing her, staring at her as if it knew her every move. She found some steak bones on the kitchen counter, opened the door slightly and threw them out on the porch near the dog. The dog only sat and stared at her with an extremely evil look out of it's eyes. Before she could close the door completely, the telephone in the hall rang. The message was from a friend at the canteen. Her girlfriend had been accidentally shot and killed at the front door of the canteen. It seems when her girlfriend went ahead of her into the canteen, minutes later a fight broke out between two servicemen over a woman, and shots were fired. Her girlfriend ran to the front door, and was shot in the back and died instantly. Her girlfriend was doing the cleanup, Edna was supposed to do. In shock, she hung up the phone, noticing the front door was not closed. Slowly, she went to the door, looking for the dog that had disappeared, just the steak bones lying there. She carefully looked through the house, but the dog had vanished. Needless, to say at the funeral, Edna was in deep depression and feelings of guilt for not staying and somehow doing her work. Several days later, she decided to go to the cemetery by herself. It was late afternoon, and darkness was setting in. Her friend was in the mausoleum, and Edna was wanting to pray and beg for forgiveness. The snow was becoming heavy on the ground. As she was leaving, she looked across the cemetery at a private crypt that someone had draped with Christmas lights. She remembered, wondering how someone got electricity out there? There on the steps of the crypt, was the white dog, and as she watched it with fear in her heart, it disappeared into the steps, only the snow remaining. She got enough courage to walk to the steps in front of the crypt, hoping to find the dog's foot prints. There were none. The dog disappeared before her eyes, never to return. That happened 58 years ago when she told me the story sitting across from me in the library. Occasionally, when I am at the library, I have looked for her, but never see her when I am there. She was raised Catholic and always believed guardian angels were beautiful with feathered white wings. To be honest, I believed the same story. Now, I think we were both wrong. If a life must be saved, our angels have to go to desperate extremes.  


(Webmaster's note: Special thanks to the above author, Rita Swift for forwarding the next two accounts to us. Posted on Feb 11, 2001)

By: Anonymous CANTON, OHIO, 1955

I was dating a man that had come back from the Korean War, and he had serious controlling problems. I worked for an attorney. I was 19 years old at the time. I decided to breakup with this man because he would not let me out of his sight. My father was a fireman, so after talking to this man, and telling him he had friends on the police force, he would be arrested if he continued to stalk me. One Sunday afternoon, I went out front to pick some flowers, when I saw the man drive up several houses from my home. I dropped the flowers, and started to run to the front door, when out from behind the hedges, this White Dog chased me around the side of the house, causing me to loose my balance and fall down the cellar steps into the cellar. My father and brother were down there working on the furnace. They turned to see me fall and see the huge White Dog coming down the steps. The cellar door slammed closed by itself. Then we heard shots. The stalker had shot out the front window and turned the gun on himself and died on our front lawn. My father kept looking for the White Dog in the cellar but it had vanished. Thank God, my mother was in kitchen in the rear of the house. This White Dog looked like the dogs in your stories.


By: Anonymous NEW YORK CITY, 1970

In 1970, I was living in New York City. I had gone to the grocery store after getting off the subway about 5 pm. I was walking home and started to step off the curb, when a White Cat with bright pink eyes came out of mid-air and knocked me backwards on my butt on the sidewalk. My groceries were everywhere. A man behind me saw the Cat and jumped to the side of me. I felt a burning sensation of claws on my left shoulder. Just then a taxi came at a high rate of speed, and hit the curb with it's right front tire and lost control in the street. Some of my can goods were run over in the street by the taxi. The man helped me up, and he helped me bag the remaining groceries. The White Cat had vanished. I checked my left shoulder, and there were no claw marks, and the pain was gone. I feel the Cat from nowhere saved my life from being killed by the taxi. I talked to my Rabbi. He said it was a message from God. That weekend, I went to the pet shop and bought a white kitten with green eyes. She was my good friend for 17 years.


Have you had an amazing "ghostly" encounter with an animal? Send us your story for possible inclusion in this section! You may remain anonymous.



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