You know, when you like my post, I take that as an excuse to post more

Since the thread was started with question about dogs and death, I’ll tell you about my dog too. It was literally 30 years ago, but I’m still so angry about it.
When I was a kid, my... ah, let’s call him a father... gave my dog away to equally psychopathic friend of his. He treated the dog well, I can’t complain, but it was large shepherd dog, bred for protecting sheep from wolves, and that breed is famous for bonding with one person. I was his person. Eventually, he bit some moron who didn’t respect his territory and they killed him. The dog, not the moron. Sadly.
I was allowed to visit my dog every now and then and the last time I visited him before they killed him, he hugged me. It was not the “I want to have sex with your leg” type of hug, it was proper “I love you human” hug. So we hugged and I started to cry because I knew this is the goodbye. When you grow up a lot of things you feel get discarded by your meddling grown-up brain. When you’re a kid, you just know. You don’t question if it’s considered possible or not.
Few days after, he bit that guy and they shot him.
He most definitely knew something’s going to happen to him and I most definitely knew we are parting. So I was not surprised when they told me he was killed, but my father was surprised with my lack of surprise.
And my husband’s dog. It’s a lot brighter story.
He had a female dog, mostly Border Collie with god knows what else. Wonderful, energetic, friendly, silly, beautiful dog.
Then there was the war and she would know and announce each incoming shell before it exploded anywhere near us. She would yelp and even pull your clothes if you didn’t immediately respond to her alarms. In the morning before particularly hard attack, she was visibly, undoubtedly agitated and wanted everyone to stay inside. Of course, a house guaranteed no safety, but still it was better than outside. She tried to literally herd her humans in the relative safety. She was particularly useful with directing my husband's father, who was not exactly deaf but not far from that, into make-shift shelter.
Maybe one could explain her bomb forecasts with superb dog hearing, maybe she could hear the discharge better and could guess the projectile trajectory solely on that sound, but how can anyone explain she knew the day will be harder than usual? How could she ever guess what they’ll drop later that day?
Now the brighter part. She survived and chased neighbours, geese, cars, cyclists for years after, and she didn’t have to announce any explosions before they happen anymore. She would announce us coming home, before she saw any car.
Animals like cats or dogs being “psychic” is so obvious fact of life to me, I can’t stop being amazed at those who never noticed it.
They know, and we know, only we for some reason choose to ignore it.