I was not sure what to believe when they take their last breath in my arms. I wanted to believe that they have to be pain free somewhere, and I kind of liked the over the rainbow thing. Sometimes, I feel their presence, sometimes. Sometimes, they come to my dreams. I remember 7 years ago when our little one, Foxy, had a traumatic death, how upset I was. A few nights later, he visited me in my dreams, in a vivid one, running in the front yard where the grass was so green, and rolling on this back, and I knew he was ok.

Sometimes, it’s like a feeling that one or the other is there. I don’t need an animal communicator. I just know they are around.

It became even more obvious in 2010. Zeus died on August 27, 2009. Until almost his death, we were going every Thursday at 10:00 am to get Reiki in Great Falls with a great lady, Ingrid. I swear the darn dog knew when it was Thursday, and he was waiting by the front door each time!

The night after Zeus died we got an incredible thunderstorm, weird thing since he was so afraid of them. We went on, no matter what even though, despite of my other dogs, the house was different, silent, and yes as I said in Zeus’s tory, my shadow today is still lost without his.

A few months after Zeus’ passing, Pouch, our Golden retriever, our Gentledog, was diagnosed with Lymphocytic Leukemia, and later on, I thought that maybe Reiki will give him more energy. Amazingly, we had an appointment with Ingrid on Zeus’ day at the same time. I went there with Jessica, my youngest daughter.

First time I was going back there and it was a bitter sweet visit. We left the place, Jessica was on her IPod, and while she was picking up song, I heard a bark. I asked Jessica how she made her IPod barked, and she looked at me like I was crazy. At the same time, we heard another bark, and Pouch heard it too, and stood up. Jessica screamed at me to stop that I must have run over a dog. The barks were coming from the car, but at the same time, they sounded far away. Of course, when I checked the car, there was no dog stuck anywhere. I went back to my car, and while driving away from the Reiki place, there were more barks while I was crying like a baby, and the barking stopped maybe a mile, a mile and half away from there. Yes, it was Zeus, it was his bark. We shared so many Thursdays together over there. It was our special time together, and I hope – but it has to be that – he just wanted to cheer me up.

I did not dream it. I had four and two legged ones as witnesses! The thing is I was not expecting any sign from him. I was just sad. Was he barking for me or for Pouch? Selfishly, I want to believe that it was for me, and that it was to tell me he was still around. It has to be that, what else could it be?

And the poem below is one of my favorite ones:

I stood by your bed last night, I came to have a peep.
I could see that you were crying, you found it hard to sleep.
I whined to you softly as you brushed away a tear,
“It’s me, I haven’t left you, I’m well, I’m fine, I’m here.”
I was close to you at breakfast, I watched you pour the milk
You were thinking of the many times your hands reached down to me.
I was with you at my grave today, you tend it with such care.
I want to re-assure you, that I’m not lying there.
I walked with you towards the house as you fumbled for your key.
I gently put my paw on you, I smiled and said, “It’s me.”
You looked so very tired, and sank into a chair
I tried so hard to let you know that I was standing there.
“”It’s possible for me to be so near you every day
To say to you with certainty, “I never went away.””
You sat there very quietly, then smiled; I think you knew…
In the stillness of that evening, I was very close to you.
The day is over… I smile and watch you yawning
And say “good-night, God bless, I’ll see you in the morning.”
And when the time is right for you to cross the brief divide,
I’ll rush across to greet you and we’ll stand, side by side.
I have so many things to show you, there is so much for you to see.
Be patient, live your journey out… then come home to be with me.
~Author Unknown~

greatladyIn my house, I am surrounded by books. I will never let them go, no matter what. They are part of me, and who I am. A few people I was lucky enough to meet changed me as well. One of them has been gone for some years now, but I believe that as long as someone will write or talk about her, she will never be dead and forgotten.

I still remember the last time I saw her at her office. I was in the lobby, and I saw her coming towards us, Maia and me, gliding more than walking, with that Barbara’s smile on her face. There are smiles and smiles; this one was in her eyes as well. Last time I saw her alive. 4 days later, she was gone.

She was the dermatologist for my dogs. I met her a long time ago, maybe 15 years ago, and the first thing which hit me was her eyes: she had the most mesmerizing dark eyes I had ever seen.

Later on, after knowing her more, I realized how unique she was: the gentlest soul I have ever met. She had an uncanny way of interacting with my pack of dogs, not that she saw them all together, but labs and goldens are pretty bad with allergies, so one after the other, they had the privilege of meeting Barb. And believe me, it was a privilege.

She had a way with animals that no other vet I met ever had, or was even close to. She was treating them as living beings, it did not matter for her that they had four legs and a tail! There was no inferiority or superiority, just differences… I never heard her doing puppy talk or kitty talk with them. No condescendence there, just plain loving care. Every gesture she ever made was just about caring.

Memories, memories…. Seeing her at work making stitches on my Golden retriever was seeing an artist at work. The stitches could have received an award for Beauty. For me, stitches were stitches until Barb. Then, they became a celebration of love and care.

Barb was also the only one that I trusted 100 % for anything related to animals. Yes, she was a vet, but as a dogs’ Mom, she had taken before all the decisions that I took or will take. She always wanted to do what was the best for them, not for her or for me, and I followed her path, because it was mine as well.

She was an amazing diagnostician. My last vivid vision of her is in her exam room with Maia. She was talking to me and Maia must have felt neglected because suddenly she lifted her paw to grab Barb’s arm and attention. The smile she had at that minute was one I put in a box, and I will always open the box carefully, in order not to let it escape: it was a moving smile made of love, care, fondness, tenderness with a tiny bit of surprise.

I just wanted to keep her alive one more time.