An Angel Named Smokey
by Ann Frazier West on 07/11/15
A temporary move to an apartment complex was necessary at a time in my life when my children were younger. The youngest would make the move with me, and the older children would stay with their dad and near their school. The move was short-term and therefore only the most necessary pieces of furniture were moved. One night, I knew I would be working late in the apartment, so I planned to stay all night and work some more the next moring. The beds had not arrived, so I took a light-weight mattress from our camper, along with a pillow, sheets and a cover for that night. Neither shades nor curtains covered the windows just yet.
It was late when I finished cleaning and preparing the apartment for our occupancy, and I made up my bed on the floor. It was not until then that I realized there was no privacy or safe-feeling place to make a bed. It was a ground-level apartment with light from streetlights streaming through the low-hung windows in the living room. The bedrooms were dark with just enough light shining in to make me visible on my mattress to any passers-by.
The living room would have to do, though, so I settled in the corner of the room farthest from the windows and made my bed. Exhausted, I lay down and tried to go to sleep. I didn't actually feel fearful, but there was a nagging awareness of being exposed - like being in a fishbowl. People walking by my window late at night through the apartment complex could easily see me lying there. My anxiety finally gave in to a need for rest.
I was almost asleep, in a twilight or hypnogogic state when I became aware that I was not alone. I felt and heard someone breathing behind me. This was scary enough . . . and then I could feel the pressure of a body against my back.
Who is there? And how and when did someone get into the apartment? I know everything is locked; I checked each window and the only door before lying down on my mattress on the floor. What can I do?
I tried ever so hard to be invisible - I almost held my breath. I was paralyzed with fear, now, and I didn't dare move. I didn't dare turn over to see who was there and breathing down my back. I had to do something!
If I get up and run, could I make it out the front door without being attacked?
Then . . . at the height of my fear and anxiety, I saw an image in my mind's eye, and suddenly everything was all right. I became calm, and I understood. The image was Smokey. Smokey was a dog - a wonderful boxer owned by my Aunt Lola and Uncle Tom when I was a child. I loved Smokey. We had played and romped around the farmhouse when I visited my aunt and uncle, and I always felt safe with him.
How wonderful was the realization that, after all those years, Smokey became my guardian angel that night. He crossed a bridge from another dimension in hopes of making me feel safe. An angel named Smokey . . . was my guardian - my protector.
Our pets on the Other Side do visit us, some very often, and I believe they would do all they could to make us feel safe.
Have you had a pet in your life that you feel would do that for you?
