From early childhood I vividly remember often waking in the middle of the night to see a strange woman dressed in black, wearing a large hat and carrying a flat bottomed basket, standing in mid air at the foot of my bed. Terrified I would throw the covers over my head and somehow remarkably enough, be able to get back to sleep.

Things we do not yet understand

Every evening one of my parents would check under the bed to make sure she wasn’t there. Once when my Gran put me to bed I asked her why that women came, she said that she was just looking out for me and would do me no harm. She said that different people often came to her and that it was quite normal. Nevertheless I would have preferred her not to come.
In the early days there were no other children of my age living in our small village. My brother was 6 years older than me and the neighbours children were also comparatively much older.Once a year in the summer, the neighbours would have family from up north come to stay and their little boy Trevor was my age. We would play together for hours on end.

One rainy afternoon

we were playing up in my bedroom with both sets of parents talking downstairs, when suddenly my night visitor appeared before us. She stood for a while, we were dumbstruck, and then she seemed to disappear through a closed door into a built in cupboard in the corner of the room. We must have been too frightened to look for ourselves but I remember my father and his, searching the cupboard and trying to convince us that it was empty. This cupboard was used in the autumn to store apples. Hence from then on I nicknamed my vision “the Apple women”.

It’s only now while writing this that I realise that must have been the reason Trevor never came to play indoors with me again.
When my brother left home, I happily moved into his much larger bedroom, I was hoping that the Apple women wouldn’t bother me there. She didn’t appear often, I think I was more able to block her out, but if for some reason I got up in the middle of the night I did see her face and not my own in the mirror.
When I was 12 years old my little sister was born. She came to sleep in my room and as far as I can remember the Apple women disappeared.

Going crazy?

Four decades later found me married to a Dutchman and living in the Netherlands surrounded by my beautiful dogs. My hobby had become my passion and my life. I was breeding, showing and judging Cavalier King Spaniels very successfully on an international level. Although I worked very hard for this I feel that it was my intuition which played the greatest role.
In March 1998 a fellow breeder and judge, who has since become one of my closest friends, came over to visit from America. The intention was to stay a few days and then travel together to the famous Crufts dog show in England.

The day before our departure we drove to my local veterinarian practice to pick up some medicine for one of the dogs. It was out of surgery hours which meant that the waiting room was empty and there was nobody behind the reception desk. Meredith even asked where everyone was. At that moment one of my trusted Vets appeared to the left of us, I presumed he had come from one of the consulting rooms there. It was astonishing, he looked amazing, absolutely radiant, glowing almost. He was wearing his khaki trousers, with his usual matching body warmer type top over a red polo shirt.

Everything was sparkeling clean

which was definitely not normal for Leo. (The last time we had spoken was in my kitchen three months earlier when he came to tell me that he was leaving his beloved practice and this was his last visit to my kennel. He confided that his regular visits to my kennel were a pleasure. My dogs adored him. He was a quiet unassuming man and very competent. At that time he looked thin and vulnerable. And now here he was, the picture of health. I tried to speak, to say how wonderful he looked but I couldn’t, or perhaps somehow I didn’t feel the need. He stood in front of us both and I remember this indescribable feeling of intense happiness and love. Unforgettable. He disappeared into the open apothecary space behind him as the veterinary nurse came from the other direction with my medicine.

“He said Nothing”

Meredith and I got in the car and I remember saying “that was Leo, a lovely man.” She answered “yes, but he said nothing “.
Two weeks later back home in my kitchen drinking tea with another of the vets from the same practice , I enquired after Leo. She looked shocked “Didn’t you hear that he passed away?” But I only saw him a couple of weeks ago and he looked amazing, I said. “Not possible “ she replied “he died in February.” She was so adamant, that I didn’t argue with her. I was however feeling very confused, maybe I was going crazy?

When my husband returned home he advised me to call Meredith in order to check this out. “Did we see any of the vet’s at the surgery when we visited in March?” I asked. “Yes”, she said “You said his name was Leo, but he didn’t speak.” I told her that he had actually died in the previous February. “O yea I thought as much” she replied. “What!?” It turns out this was a familiar phenomenon to her. Okay so far, bear with me. To be continued later on.

Warm greetings,

Wendy