My nanny (who is really my grandma, but we call her Nanny!) had an adorable, fat, black small poodle named, Mikey. Me, my cousins, and my sister and brother, all grew up with Mikey. When I was around 7 or 8, and Mikey was at the ripe old age of 15, he got very sick, and we made the (hard!) decision to put him down. Poodles usually live only about 15-20 years, and, in this condition, he was miserable. We all loved Mikey dearly, more than you can imagine, and no one would really think so, because, as much as we used to complain about him, the day he was put to sleep, we were all very upset.
A few weeks after he was put to sleep, my nanny was alone in the house watching TV. Her house is set up so when you walk in, you walk onto shiny stone that shines in the sunlight. Then, you turn into her carpeted den/dining room. She heard clicking noises, like nails on hardwood floors, and a jingle, and out of the corner of her eye, saw a black figure. She looked at it disappeared, but it's a little self-explanatory what you might think this was... Mikey! She never really saw anything after that (even though sometimes I thought I saw him in the reflection of the sliding doors leading to her backyard) we think Mikey had just come to say goodbye.
What a great dog!