Do you believe in psychic goodbyes? I do.
When one of my grandfathers died back in the 1980s, I remember this feeling just before he died, that he was in my room with me, trying to tell me it was his time to go. Shortly after that, the phone rang, and we were told he had died a few minutes before.
The same thing happened in the 1990s when an uncle I loved dearly died. I knew he had died before Mum even rang me at 6.30 in the morning to tell me. All I could say to her was "I know. I was there." She didn't understand, and I don't expect her to, because rightfully I was asleep in my bed at home, not up at the hospital holding his hand.
Last night, or early this morning, I was woken by a jangle of collar, a thrumming down the back stairs, and a happy joyful barking. I haven't had the phone call yet, so I don't know if this means my beautiful, sweet, loving dalmatian has died, and she was coming to say goodbye and let me know she was no longer suffering in any way, or if (and here I know I am hoping like mad, but do you blame me?) perhaps it is her way of saying she is better now, or at least on the mend, and that she will indeed soon be home?
I have had guinea pigs hold on until I came home so they could say their goodbyes to me before dying. I even had a pet chook who let me know her moment of death.
This dog has been special though. She came to me as an older dog, to begin with. Shy, reserved, timid. But coming here seemed to change her. All of a sudden she became this happy, joyful pup again. Walkies were her all-time favourite part of the day, except for maybe dinner time :-)
She has gone from a dog that would lie quietly near the back door, hoping that someone might consider feeding her, to a dog that takes an active role in getting that food from the fridge into her tummy. She howls at the back door, she tries to stick her little wet black nose through the security door mesh, and looks so incredibly sweet and loveable that I can't help but feed her.
When she came here, she had never seen steps, let alone ever had to climb them. She was 5 years old then, and one rainy night, my two older cats got out, so my dog had to come in! And so, in the rain and the dark, I had to teach her how to climb my back steps. I'm sure if anyone had been watching they would have been laughing themselves silly, because in the end it involved me having to show her how to climb the stairs, by going down on all fours and doing it for her, so she could copy me.
In the end, I think the fear of being stuck out in the storm without "mummy" made her give in and attempt those stairs, all the time crying her little heart out. She's always been scared of storms, apparently, so she spent the night inside with me, and believe me when I say that a single bed really and honestly does not fit a human and a dalmatian. She refused to sleep on the floor - just had to sleep with me, I guess. She not only hogged my pillow, but also most of the bed, so I had a sliver on the edge, and she had the rest. But it was worth it, to keep her safe and happy.
There's not much I wouldn't do for this dog.
Together we have discovered the joys of walking. Because of her, I finally managed to lose some excess weight that I just never could shift before. And because of her, too, I am overcoming my shyness around strangers. It's hard to be shy when you are walking a dalmatian, and there are kids around going "ooh doggie!" and "oooh spots!" and such. It's also cool when total strangers shyly come up to you and ask if they may pat your "doggie" because they have never been that close to a dallie before, and have always wanted to pat one.
This dog has changed my life for the better, and I know I have done the same for her.
I just have to hope that if she has indeed died, then wherever she is, she is happy, and joyful, and once again puppy-like. And that if she is still with us, then her "visit" this morning was just a heads-up that she's feeling better, and for me not to be so sad anymore because she's coming back soon.
One can only hope, anyway.
When one of my grandfathers died back in the 1980s, I remember this feeling just before he died, that he was in my room with me, trying to tell me it was his time to go. Shortly after that, the phone rang, and we were told he had died a few minutes before.
The same thing happened in the 1990s when an uncle I loved dearly died. I knew he had died before Mum even rang me at 6.30 in the morning to tell me. All I could say to her was "I know. I was there." She didn't understand, and I don't expect her to, because rightfully I was asleep in my bed at home, not up at the hospital holding his hand.
Last night, or early this morning, I was woken by a jangle of collar, a thrumming down the back stairs, and a happy joyful barking. I haven't had the phone call yet, so I don't know if this means my beautiful, sweet, loving dalmatian has died, and she was coming to say goodbye and let me know she was no longer suffering in any way, or if (and here I know I am hoping like mad, but do you blame me?) perhaps it is her way of saying she is better now, or at least on the mend, and that she will indeed soon be home?
I have had guinea pigs hold on until I came home so they could say their goodbyes to me before dying. I even had a pet chook who let me know her moment of death.
This dog has been special though. She came to me as an older dog, to begin with. Shy, reserved, timid. But coming here seemed to change her. All of a sudden she became this happy, joyful pup again. Walkies were her all-time favourite part of the day, except for maybe dinner time :-)
She has gone from a dog that would lie quietly near the back door, hoping that someone might consider feeding her, to a dog that takes an active role in getting that food from the fridge into her tummy. She howls at the back door, she tries to stick her little wet black nose through the security door mesh, and looks so incredibly sweet and loveable that I can't help but feed her.
When she came here, she had never seen steps, let alone ever had to climb them. She was 5 years old then, and one rainy night, my two older cats got out, so my dog had to come in! And so, in the rain and the dark, I had to teach her how to climb my back steps. I'm sure if anyone had been watching they would have been laughing themselves silly, because in the end it involved me having to show her how to climb the stairs, by going down on all fours and doing it for her, so she could copy me.
In the end, I think the fear of being stuck out in the storm without "mummy" made her give in and attempt those stairs, all the time crying her little heart out. She's always been scared of storms, apparently, so she spent the night inside with me, and believe me when I say that a single bed really and honestly does not fit a human and a dalmatian. She refused to sleep on the floor - just had to sleep with me, I guess. She not only hogged my pillow, but also most of the bed, so I had a sliver on the edge, and she had the rest. But it was worth it, to keep her safe and happy.
There's not much I wouldn't do for this dog.
Together we have discovered the joys of walking. Because of her, I finally managed to lose some excess weight that I just never could shift before. And because of her, too, I am overcoming my shyness around strangers. It's hard to be shy when you are walking a dalmatian, and there are kids around going "ooh doggie!" and "oooh spots!" and such. It's also cool when total strangers shyly come up to you and ask if they may pat your "doggie" because they have never been that close to a dallie before, and have always wanted to pat one.
This dog has changed my life for the better, and I know I have done the same for her.
I just have to hope that if she has indeed died, then wherever she is, she is happy, and joyful, and once again puppy-like. And that if she is still with us, then her "visit" this morning was just a heads-up that she's feeling better, and for me not to be so sad anymore because she's coming back soon.
One can only hope, anyway.
2 comments:
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....
To have loved and then said farewell is better than to have never loved at all.
For all of the times that you stooped and touched my head, fed me my favorite treat and
returned the love that I so unconditionally gave to you. For the care that you gave to me
so unselfishly. For all of these things I am grateful and thankful. I ask that you grieve
not for the loss but rejoice in the fact that we lived, loved and touched each other's lives.
My life was fuller because you were there, not as owner, but as my friend. Today, I am
as I was in my youth. The grass is always green, butterflies flit among fthe flowers and
the sun shines gently down upon all of God's creatures. I can run, jump and play
and do all of the things that I did in my youth. There is no sickness, no aching joints
and no regrets and no aging. We await the arrival of our lifelong companions and know
that togetherness is forever. You live in our hearts as we do in yours. Companions such
as you are very rare and unique. Don't hold the love that you have within yourself.
Give it to another like me and then I will live forever. For love never really dies,
and you are loved and missed as surely as we are.
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