The Celts believed that now is the time when the veil between the spirit and physical worlds is the thinnest. It's a notion that inspired our modern celebration of Halloween, though I'm not sure what the Druids would have made of fiber-optic pumpkins.
Joshua P. Warren notes that while October is "like Christmastime for paranormal investigators" like himself, metaphysical peekaboo happens year round. And his book, "Pet Ghosts: Animal Encounters From Beyond the Grave" (New Page, $14.99), suggests that humans haven't cornered the market on apparitions.
(Don't believe in ghosts? Fair enough. But these days, the veil of credulity thins a bit as well, as columnists grope for Halloween-themed copy.)
Warren says the impetus for his book was his Dachshund Nellie, who departed this mortal coil in 2002 but left behind some high-pitched whimpers.
"I enjoy investigating haunted houses, but I didn't want to live in one," says Warren, who hauled out his electromagnetic field meters and infrared cameras. While Nellie herself never materialized, "I was startled to see how distinct the energy patterns were along the pathways she used to travel in life."
As Warren began to investigate paranormal animals, he discovered the literature was scant, indeed.
For this reason, "Pet Ghosts" goes far afield in cataloging what Warren has dubbed "phantanimals," from harbingers (flesh-and-blood critters that have joined the occult's version of the Reserves, such as cats who enlist as witches' familiars) to elementals (ghostly animals that never occupied a body, like the "hellhounds" of British lore).
These Harry Potter-ish figures aside, Nellie and her ilk fall into the basic category of "ghost animals" that were once here and now are gone, except for the odd disembodied mew or glowing flicker.
In this sense, says Warren - who says he's never seen one of the animal variety, although his equipment has registered otherwise - they are like their human counterparts: attracted to those they loved.
Following this logic, dogs, the ultimate co-dependents, should come back most frequently. But Warren says the reports he has collected have been mostly horses and cats.
"It may be that horses are big, impressive creatures and are simply more noticeable," he muses. "And cats have this long tradition of being associated with the paranormal."
Then there's the human element: "I always wonder if the types of people who own cats might be more receptive to their cats coming back," while dog folks, like ball- obsessed Labs, might be pretty much oblivious.
(Domesticated critters, by the way, are hardly the only ones with round-trip tickets from the Great Beyond. Warren says he has collected sightings of dinosaurs, though he admits there "is very little data on these because people are horrified when they come face to face with pterodactyl.")
Regardless of the species of your specter, Warren says environment can affect your chances of encountering one.
One factor is humidity. "When it's low, electrostatic charges build up more distinctly," and ghosts "are able to maintain a self-contained energy form," he explains.
Similarly, there's electromagnetic interference from computers and televisions.
Finally, Warren says, ghosts are drawn to settings that attracted them in life. This means favorite foods, treats, toys - or an owner who acts as if they are still alive.
If you're not sure if Fido has dropped in from another dimension, Warren suggests letting a compass be your guide around the house.
"It should always point north," he says. "If not, something is disrupting it magnetically."
Another low-tech option is an unplugged fluorescent bulb. "If you encounter an electrostatic field," he assures, "it will illuminate."
If this sounds like a lot of hooey, Warren acknowledges that's a viable hypothesis, too.
"The basic definition of a ghost is reliant upon human experience," he says. "In many cases, we cannot differentiate it from purely subjective hallucination."
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