A Ghost’s Best Friend

Anyone who has had a devoted pet in their lives knows how deep the affection can run between master and furry friend. There is a story told of the rainbow bridge, a bridge that all pets cross after they die. There they find sunlit fields, plenty of space to run and play, and food and cool water to their hearts content. And they remain there, playing in comfort and warmth, until their own beloved owner crosses to the other side, where they are joined once again in eternal bliss. But what happens when it is the beloved master that passes away first?

In Terra Haute, at the Highland Lawn cemetery, is the Heinl Mausoleum. And just past the stained glass panels of its door, one can glimpse more than the stone bier of death. Rather, you come face-to-face with a pair of bright green eyes, resolutely guarding the rest of John G. Heinl.

John Heinl and his beloved little bulldog, Stiffy Green, were a common sight about the streets of Terra Haute. The two were inseparable and shared a unique bond. John lavished attention on Stiffy, and Stiffy never let John out of his sight, always ready to jump to his master’s aid and protection. But unfortunately, all god things come to an end.

John died in 1920, and was laid to rest in his mausoleum. Stiffy was inconsolable. He refused to leave the doors of the mausoleum, and when anyone attempted to take him back to his home, he would snarl and snap, resolutely defending his master’s final resting place. He would neither eat nor drink and finally one morning he was found laying up against the doors, never to move again.

The Heinl family, so moved by Stiffy’s undying loyalty had his body taken to a taxidermist, where he was preserved and mounted so that he could be interred with the master he loved so much. Now one might shed a sentimental tear and think that would be the end of it. Oh no. Far from it.

After Stiffy’s death, strange things began to be noticed about Highland Lawn. Off in the distance, though never from any particular direction, just somewhere distant, many visitors have head the particular bark of a bulldog. Not an angry bark, but one of joy, full of play. And shortly after the barking, people have often heard the voice of a man quietly hushing his four-footed companion.

At other times since 1920, many a person has glimpsed a faint figure of a man strolling about the cemetery, a small dog in tow. From all accounts, the two never pay any attention to anyone about them. They just seem to be enjoying the exercise. And often when the figure is spotted, cemetery workers had seen the doors to the Heinl Mausoleum standing wide open, ready to receive the pair when they are done with their afternoon romp.

Many people over the years have stolen a peek through the door and seen the little bulldog standing still next to his master’s resting place. He stares back at them, his bright green eyes glinting in the darkness of the grave, daring them to make a move against his beloved one. As the outsiders move on, so do Stiffy’s eyes, following them back and forth, until they think better of disturbing his master’s rest and leave.

There are many who say Stiffy is only a statue, nothing more than a loving gesture from a bereft family touched by the little dog’s loyalty. But if you have ever heard the legends of the golems of Germany, or the gargoyles in France, you know that statues can, in fact, have lives of their own. And any interference on our parts may have everlasting consequences. I think next time I visit Highland Lawn, I might take a stick along, just in case it’s needed for a rousing game of fetch.