Besides, from my own experience, and the experiences of those with whom
I have been brought in contact, I can safely affirm that there are
phantasms (and therefore spirits) of both living and dead dogs in just
the same proportion as there are phantasms (and therefore spirits) of
both living and dead human beings. _Psychic Properties of Dogs_

Some, not all, dogs--like cats--possess the psychic property of scenting
the advent of death, and they indicate their fear of it by the most
dismal howling. In my opinion there is very little doubt that dogs
actually see some kind of phantasm that, knowing when death is about to
take place, visits the house of the doomed and stands beside his, or
her, couch. I have had this phantasm described to me, by those who
declare they have seen it, as a very tall, hooded figure, clad in a
dark, loose, flowing costume--its face never discernible. It would, of
course, be foolish to say that a dog howling in a house is invariably
the sign of death; there are many other and obvious causes which produce
something of a similar effect; but I think one may be pretty well
assured that, when the howling is accompanied by unmistakable signs of
terror, then someone, either in the house at the time, or connected
with someone in the house, will shortly die. _Dogs in Haunted Houses_

When I investigate a haunted house, I generally take a dog with me,
because experience has taught me that a dog seldom fails to give notice,
in some way or another--either by whining, or growling, or crouching
shivering at one's feet, or springing on one's lap and trying to bury
its head in one's coat--of the proximity of a ghost. I had a dog with
me, when ghost-hunting, not so very long ago, in a well-known haunted
house in Gloucestershire. The dog--my only companion--and I sat on the
staircase leading from the hall to the first floor. Just about two
o'clock the dog gave a loud growl. I put my hand out and found it was
shivering from head to foot. Almost directly afterwards I heard the loud
clatter of fire-irons from somewhere away in the basement, a door
banged, and then something, or someone, began to ascend the stairs. Up,
up, up came the footsteps, until I could see--first of all a bluish
light, then the top of a head, then a face, white and luminous, staring
up at me. A few more steps, and the whole thing was disclosed to view. It was the figure of a girl of about sixteen, with a shock head of red
hair, on which was stuck, all awry, a dirty little, old-fashioned
servant's cap. She was clad in a cotton dress, soiled and bedraggled,
and had on her feet a pair of elastic-sided boots, that looked as if
they would fall to pieces each step she took. But it was her face that
riveted my attention most. It was startlingly white and full of an
expression of the most hopeless misery. The eyes, wide open and glassy,
were turned direct on mine. I was too appalled either to stir or utter a
sound. The phantasm came right up to where I stood, paused for a second,
and then slowly went on; up, up, up, until a sudden bend in the
staircase hid it from view. For some seconds there was a continuation of
the footsteps, then there came a loud splash from somewhere outside and
below--and then silence--sepulchral and omnipotent. I did not wait to see if anything further would happen. I fled, and
Dick, my dog friend, who was apparently even more frightened than I,
fled with me. We arrived home--panic-stricken. Over and over again, on similar occasions, I have had a dog with me, and
the same thing has occurred--the dog has made some noise indicative of
great fear, remaining in a state of stupor during the actual presence of
the apparition. _Psychic Propensities of Dogs compared with those of Cats_

Though dogs are, perhaps, rather more alarmed at the Unknown than cats,
I do not think they have a keener sense of its proximity. Still, for the
very reason that they show greater--more unmistakable--indications of
fear, they make surer psychic barometers. The psychic faculty of scent
in dogs would seem to be more limited than that in cats; for, whereas
cats can not only detect the advent and presence of pleasant and
unpleasant phantoms by their smells, few dogs can do more than detect
the approach of death. Dogs make friends nearly, if not quite, as
readily with cruel and brutal people as with kind ones, simply because
they cannot, so easily as cats, distinguish by their scent the
unpleasant types of spirits cruel and brutal people attract; in all
probability, they are not even aware of the presence of such spirits. It would seem, on the face of it, that since dogs are, on the whole, of
a gentler disposition than cats, that is to say, not quite so cruel and
savage, the phantasms of dogs would be less likely to be earth-bound
than those of cats; but, then, one must take into consideration the
other qualities of the two animals, and when these are put in the
balance, one may find little to choose--morally--between the cat and
the dog. Anyhow, after making allowance for the fact that many more cats
die unnatural deaths than dogs, there would seem to be small numerical
difference in their hauntings--cases of dog ghosts appearing to be just
as common as cases of cat ghosts. Apropos of phantom dogs, my friend Dr. G. West writes to me thus:--

"Of the older English Universities many stories are told of bizarre
happenings,--of duels, raggings, suicides and such-like--in olden times;
but of K., venerable, illustrious K. of Ireland, few and far between are
the accounts of similar occurrences. This is one, however, and it deals
with the phantom of a dog:--

"One evening, towards the end of the eighteenth century, John Kelly, a
Dean of the College (extremely unpopular on account of his supposed
harsh treatment of some of the undergraduates), was about to commence
his supper, when he heard a low whine, and looking down, saw a large
yellow dog cross the floor in front of him, and disappear immediately
under the full-length portrait that hung over the antique chimney-piece. Something prompting him, he glanced at the picture. The eyes that looked
into his blinked. "'It must be the result of an overtaxed brain,' he said to himself. 'Those rascally undergraduates have got on my nerves.' "He shut his eyes; and re-opening them, stared hard at the portrait. It
was not a delusion. The eyes that gazed back at him were alive--alive
with the spirit of mockery; they smiled, laughed, jeered; and, as they
did so, the knowledge of his surroundings was brought forcibly home to
him. The room in which he was seated was situated at the end of a long,
cheerless, stone passage in the western wing of the College. Away from
all the other rooms of the building, it was absolutely isolated; and had
long borne the reputation of being haunted by a dog, which was said to
appear only before some catastrophe. The Dean had hitherto committed the
story to the category of fables.