Mysti's Pet Stories

Da Juana Byrd

Psychic Caller Comments

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Little sister Madeline


My family has always had a special affinity for animals. There are several stories that come to mind. One that I remember the other day occurred about 30 years ago when I was a small child.

When I was a small child (4 or 5), my great grandfather had a large, beautiful collie named Jack.  Dogs were not allowed in the house, not even Jack.  But my great grandfather loved animals, especially his Jack.  Jack was well cared for even though there wasn't much money and they lived in a rural community.  I've been told by many people who knew him that my "Pappa H" was a very kind, generous man who was well-liked and respected in his community.   

Everywhere my great grandfather went, the dog went with him if it was possible.  When we would come to visit, my brother and I would play with Jack, even trying to ride him like a pony. (We never actually succeeded in getting on his back, we just pretended because he was such a large dog.) Jack was very patient and loving and never once growled or snapped at us. He taught us the dogs were wonderful creatures.  He rarely barked, only to alert the family to someone approaching that he did not recognize or did not trust.  He was a great dog and we loved him tremendously.

My great grandfather became very ill and eventually suffered a series of strokes and was bedridden.  My grandmother cared for him at home, as was the custom, rather than in a hospital.  Even though we were very young we would go and stay with my grandmother and "Pappa H" until shortly before he died.  Because he was so ill, Pappa H was unable to go out to see Jack for several weeks before he died.  The entire time he was ill, Jack stayed near the front porch of the house.  Pappa's bed was in the room that was next to that front porch.   Of course Jack was still cared for and loved, though I'm sure he didn't get as much attention as he did from my grandfather. 

My great grandfather died on a Wednesday night. Almost immediately after he died, Jack did something he had not previously done - he started to howl. He kept it up almost all night and would not be consoled.  Then the next day or so he stopped eating and drinking and about a week later, he just died.  There was nothing wrong with him physically.  Once my great grandfather was gone, Jack couldn't or wouldn't go on without him. I always believed that somewhere my Pappa and his Jack are out walking through the woods together and happy.

What Jack did is what I call the death howl.  If you have ever heard it once, you will never forget it.  The remorse comes from deep in their soul and echoes out through their mouth.  It is one of the most sorrowful sounds I have ever heard.

They are together now with another long-haired buddy.

Da Juana 


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