Seated one afternoon at home reading, Mrs.
Coltheart was immeasurably startled at seeing, suspended in mid-air
gazing at her, the head of an old man. She uttered some sort of
exclamation, most probably a cry, and the apparition at once vanished. Some nights later, when in bed, both she and her husband saw the same
head, which was presently joined by the head of a child, and a long,
naked arm, which tried to catch hold of them. On another occasion, a member of the Coltheart family was greatly
alarmed by the sudden appearance of a large dog, which leaped on the
chair by her side, and as suddenly disappeared. Every effort was made to lay the ghosts. Ministers--and one knows how
pious Scotch clergymen are--were called in, but their exhortations,
instead of dispelling or even minimizing the phenomena, only increased
them. It was a case of more prayers, more spooks; which state of
affairs, however complimentary to the ministers' powers of address, was
scarcely as comforting to the Colthearts, who, unable to bear the
strange sights and noises any longer, evacuated the premises. As no
other tenants could be found, the house was eventually pulled down, and
a row of fine modern buildings now occupy the site. As the history of
the place could never be traced with any degree of authenticity, one can
do no more than speculate as to the cause of the disturbances, which, I
am inclined to think, were due to the phantoms of people and animals
that had once actually lived and died there. _Dogs seen before a Death_

Mrs. Crowe, in her _Night Side of Nature_, mentions the case of a young
lady named P----, who saw a big black dog twice suddenly appear and
disappear by her side, immediately before the death of her mother. In _The Unseen World_ a story is also told of the phantasm of a big
black dog appearing on the bed of a Cornish child, doomed to die shortly
afterwards, the same dog invariably manifesting itself before the death
of any member of the child's family. There are so many cases of a similar kind--one hears of them nearly
everywhere one goes--that one is led to believe some of them, at least,
must be true. There is no more reason to believe all ghost-story tellers
are liars, than there is to believe all parsons are liars--and this
being so, additional proof is afforded of the continuation of the dog's
life after death; for these family canine ghosts are more than probably
the phantasms of dogs that once belonged to families--maybe centuries
ago--and met their fate in some cruel and unnatural manner. _A Dog scared by a Canine Ghost_

A friend of mine, Edward Morgan, had a terrier that was found one
morning, poisoned in a big stone kennel. Soon afterwards this friend
came to me and said, "I have got a new dog--a spaniel--but nothing will
induce it to enter the kennel in which poor Zack was poisoned. Come and
see!" I did so, and what he said was true. Mack (Morgan gave all his dogs
names that rhymed--Zack, Mack, Jack, Tack, and even Whack and Smack),
when carried to the entrance of the kennel, resolutely refused to cross
the threshold, barking, whining, and exhibiting unmistakable symptoms of
fear. I knelt down, and peering into the kennel saw two luminous eyes
and the distinct outlines of a dog's head. "Morgan!" I exclaimed, "the mystery is easily solved; there's a dog in
here." "Nonsense!" Morgan cried, speaking very excitedly. "But there is," I retorted, "see for yourself." Morgan immediately bent down and poked his head into the kennel. "What rot," he said. "You're having me on, there's nothing here." "What!" I cried, "do you mean to say you can see no dog?" "No!" he replied, "there is none!" "Let me look again!" I said, and kneeling down, I peeped in. "Do you mean to say you can't see a dog's face and eyes looking straight
at us?" I asked. "No," he answered, "I can see nothing." And to prove to me the truth of
what he said, he fetched a pole and raked about the kennel vigorously
with it. We both, then, tried to make Mack enter, and Morgan at last
caught hold of him and placed him forcibly inside. Mack's terror knew no
limit. He gave one loud howl, and flying out of the kennel with his ears
hanging back, tore past into the front garden, where we left him in
peace. Morgan was still sceptical as to there being anything wrong with
the kennel, but two days later wrote to me as follows:--

"I must apologize for doubting you the other day. I have just had, what
you declared you saw, corroborated. A friend of my wife's was calling
here this afternoon, and, on hearing of Mack's refusal to sleep in the
kennel, at once said, 'I know what's the matter. It's the smell. Mack
scents the poison which was used to destroy Zack. Have the kennel
thoroughly fumigated, and you'll have no more trouble.' At my wife's
request she went into the yard to have a look at it, and the moment she
bent down, she cried out like you did, 'Why, there's a dog inside--a
terrier!' My wife and I both looked and could see nothing. The lady,
however, persisted, and, on my handing her a stick, struck at the figure
she saw. To her amazement the stick went right through it. Then, and not
till then, did we tell her of your experience. 'Well!' she exclaimed,
'I have never believed in ghosts, but I do so now. I am quite certain
that what I see is the phantom of Zack! How glad I am, because I am at
last assured animals have spirits and can come back to us.'" In concluding the accounts of phantasms of dead dogs, let me quote two
cases taken from my work entitled _The Haunted Houses of London_,
published by Mr. Eveleigh Nash, of Fawside House, King Street, Covent
Garden, London, W.C., in 1909. The cases are these:--


_The Phantom Dachshund of W---- St., London, W._

In letter No. 1 my correspondent writes:--

"Though I am by no means over-indulgent to dogs, the latter generally
greet me very effusively, and it would seem that there is something in
my individuality that is peculiarly attractive to them. This being so, I
was not greatly surprised one day, when in the immediate neighbourhood
of X---- Street, to find myself persistently followed by a rough-haired
dachshund wearing a gaudy yellow collar. I tried to scare it away by
shaking my sunshade at it, but all to no purpose--it came resolutely on;
and I was beginning to despair of getting rid of it, when I came to
X---- Street, where my husband once practised as an oculist. There it
suddenly altered its tactics, and instead of keeping at my heels,
became my conductor, forging slowly ahead with a gliding motion that
both puzzled and fascinated me. I furthermore observed that
notwithstanding the temperature--it was not a whit less than ninety
degrees in the shade--the legs and stomach of the dachshund were covered
with mud and dripping with water. When it came to No. 90 it halted, and
veering swiftly round, eyed me in the strangest manner, just as if it
had some secret it was bursting to disclose.