John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt
A cozy ghost tale
A curious and adventurous cat named Jake lived with a woman, Liz, in a small, cozy cottage. His name was short for John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt because Liz had loved that song as a child.
Liz got Jake from a no-kill shelter. A shelter volunteer had informed Liz that someone had dropped off two kittens in the morning, but only one remained. Liz saw a small ball of tabby fur with white socks and breathed in his kitten smell when that song came unbidden into her mind. She hummed it as she rested her cheek against his, and he purred. Liz shortened his name to Jacob Schmidt (said when being scolded) and then to Jake.
Jake had a unique ability that set him apart from other cats—he could see ghosts. Most cats spent their days lounging in the sun or playing with yarn, but Jake had a different world to explore.
It all started when Jake was a kitten. Late one evening, he climbed up his cat tree and was chasing his tail on the topmost platform when he noticed a shimmering figure in his peripheral vision. He paused, his ears perked up, and his whiskers twitched with curiosity.
It was a ghostly apparition of a mischievous mouse, long gone but still lingering in the earthly realm. Jake did not feel scared. He became friends with the ghost mouse, playing hide-and-seek, chasing him to the top of his cat tree, and cuddling with him on his favorite cushion.
Jake became fascinated with ghosts and sought their company. He didn’t have far to go. He stepped through his cat door, onto the back porch, hopped onto the table Liz used to repot her plants and, from there, leaped onto the top of the shed by the fence line, and then jumped across the fence into a neighboring backyard.
About a year ago, the neighboring house became abandoned, and the spirits of earlier inhabitants still haunted it. Jake accessed the house by a broken basement window in a window well. He glided through the hallways, his eyes focused on the entities that danced around him. He meowed and purred, conversing secretly with the otherworldly beings.
Soon, ghosts who could leave their hauntings came calling, and Jake became a well-known figure among the local ghosts. They admired his capacity to see and speak to them and treated him with the utmost respect.
They shared stories of their past lives, regrets, and unfinished business. Jake listened, offering comfort, companionship, and purrs to those lost between worlds.
He roamed farther than the house beyond the fence to connect with haunt-bound spirits (those spirits who could not leave their haunts) and often found himself a street or two over from the street where he lived with Liz.
One moonlit night, as Jake roamed the quiet streets, he noticed a faint glow emanating from an old, dilapidated mansion. Intrigued, he approached the grand entrance. As he entered, he sensed a presence nearby.
“Who’s there?” a voice filled with both fear and longing whispered.
The cat fixed his eyes on the ethereal figure that materialized before him. “It’s me, Jake. Don’t be afraid. I see you.”
The ghost, a woman with a sorrowful expression on a beautiful face, approached Jake.
“You... you can see me? No one else ever could.”
Jake nodded, his tail swaying.
“Yes, I can see and hear you. What’s troubling you?”
The ghost, with tears in her eyes, admitted to not moving on for centuries.
Jake approached the ghost, rubbing his head against her translucent form.
“Tell me your story. Maybe I can help.”
Jake listened to the ghost’s tale. She told him her name was Sarah, and she had died in the house a century and a half before while giving birth. Her child, a girl, had survived. Her husband tried his best alone with the child but decided he had to remarry.
Sarah sobbed.
“That woman was cruel to my girl, to my Juliette. She would pretend to love her when her father was around but then do things like send her to bed without her evening meal when he was traveling or pinch her when he wasn’t looking. My girl cried herself to sleep many nights, and I wished I could soothe her, comfort her. I would blow on the bruise where that woman pinched her, trying to ease her pain, whispering in her ear and singing her lullabies until her eyes closed.”
“What became of her?”
“Seeking an escape, she got engaged, married, and left the house. She never returned. I never laid eyes on her again.”
Jake comforted her, offering a sympathetic ear and understanding purrs. He told her he would ask the other spirits if they knew what had happened to her daughter.
In the days that followed, more spirits sought Jake. Some, seeking guidance, felt lost, while regret or resentment burdened others. Jake listened to each one, offering comfort and wise advice. He also asked if they knew what had happened to Sarah’s daughter, Juliette, but not one spirit knew anything about Sarah or Juliette.
On another moonlit night, Jake discovered himself in a new home, less than five years old, haunted by an angry ghost with shoulder-length stringy white hair, who ranted and raved, shouted and cursed.
“Is this it? This can’t be the end!”
Jake approached the restless spirit; his tail held high in a sign of peace, his eyes filled with empathy. “I understand how you feel. Letting go can be challenging, but finding peace often requires accepting the truth.”
The spirit scoffed. “Truth? Death caught me unawares! While grieving for my wife, I fell down the stairs and broke my neck in the house they destroyed before building this one.”
The ghost sobbed.
“I led an upright and good life. I was lucky to have an amazing wife. She always said that I had rescued her from a horrible life. She and I had four beautiful children who grew into thoughtful, kind adults. My wife died from a cancer that cut off her air. I was there at the end, but oh, I was angry. She did not deserve to die in that manner! The doctors claimed they were helpless. They killed my darling wife!”
His sobs turned into a wail.
“We had planned a trip to Europe when she became ill.”
As the ghost, Horace shared the regrets that weighed on his soul, Jake listened, offering guidance and reminding him that forgiveness and acceptance were the keys to transitioning. Jake also asked if he knew about a woman named Sarah and her daughter Juliette.
“My wife’s name was Juliette. Her mother’s name was Sarah.”
Jake told him about Sarah’s spirit and what she had said about how Juliette had been treated by her stepmother.
The ghost listened and nodded as Jake wound around his legs.
As Jake finished, the ghost’s eyes widened with realization, and he whispered, “Sarah... my beloved wife’s mother. She died giving birth to Juliette.”
Jake nodded, confirming the truth. “Yes. I believe Sarah is Juliette’s mother. Sarah became a ghost after her tragic death, just like you.”
Horace’s ghostly form trembled with mixed emotions—grief, regret, and understanding.
Jake explained, “Sometimes, cruel circumstances keep loved ones apart. Sarah’s untimely death separated her from her daughter, and fate brought Juliette into your life. Sarah will find solace in knowing that her daughter lived the rest of her life filled with love and joy, allowing her to move forward.”
“Is there more than this? Will I ever lay eyes on my beloved Juliette again?”
“The answer to both questions is yes.”
Horace’s ghostly face lit in a broad smile. As he thanked Jake, a bright light enveloped him, and his ghostly form dissipated.
Jake visited Sarah before night's end. He told her about Horace and what he had said about Juliette.
“Her… her husband loved her? She was happy? Oh, I have grandchildren!”
Sarah smiled through tears of relief as she absorbed all that Jake reported.
“My dear girl! Is there a chance I'll see her again?”
“Yes, I’m sure you will once you’ve transitioned away from this existence.”
“Oh, I’m so thankful to you, Jake! What a beautiful creature you are!”
As she thanked Jake, she glowed—her face shining, her skin gleaming. She floated through one of the closed windows of the house, smiling brightly. Her beautiful face was serene as she dissolved into a million tiny stars into the night.
Over time, ghosts from near and far sought Jake for guidance and comfort. He became a legend in the spirit realm, spoken of in hushed whispers. They marveled at his ability to bridge the gap between the living and the dead, bringing solace to their tormented souls. His compassionate nature and ability to understand their struggles made him a beacon of hope in the spirit realm.
Jake’s ability to see ghosts filled his days and nights with otherworldly encounters, but he always found his way home to curl up on his favorite pillow, content knowing that he had been a positive influence on the essence of those who had passed.
Author’s Note
Our household is owned by a cat named Jake. I include our dog in his ownership. He is a holy terror but also the sweetest cat.
When he gets the zoomies, he dashes around as if a pack of hounds is after him, climbing to the top of his cat tree or the highest piece of furniture in the vicinity, spinning around a few times before jumping down and dashing down a hallway.
We also learned early on that he loves to pat things until he pushes them over an edge. We lost a couple of glasses and knick-knacks that way.
He loves to cuddle, rub his head (scent mark) against human and dog legs, and has a rumbling purr.
It would not surprise me to learn that our Jake sees ghosts.
Credits for photos used in the video I created (with the help of Canva) to introduce this post on Instagram and other social media, go to me. 🤭
Upcoming…
An icy winter morning (a sonnet sequence):
Fog Watching, 3 February 2024
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What a wonderful story! I read every word with great delight.
Of course you know I love this! Being Jake's mom, he can do no wrong in my eyes and he has talents and powers beyond our human understanding. Thanks for that most creative story about him ... and, yes. I'm sure he sees things in a world beyond!