Oh Rob -

...as someone sitting here with her Siberian Husky daughter, I so understand and I so feel your pain -

...my sister and my brother have had Goldens that have crossed to The Rainbow Bridge -

...you paid the perfect tribute to your pal -

...here is one that has stuck with me from the 'fur'st time I ever saw it - I always feel compelled to share it with those that have felt the loss

http://www.petloss.com/poems/maingrp/dogsdont.htm

...you did your pal a great service and you can surely thank dog and praise cheeses you could be there -

...our sympathies, tears, and thoughts

LFTL and Her Sibe

PeeEss: They aren't JUST pets - they are their lives and we are theirs!

My tears are with you. When my partner said he wanted us to get a dog, the resistance I felt was not wanting to face a day like yours, once again.

Phil Hoskins

I had to log in to comment on your loss of Oberon. You've been at CHB long enough to remember my yellow lab Kate who was often a part of Reader Rant. She died as old and sick as Oberon but there is not a day I don't miss her lovely part of my life. I'm too old to get another dog and will have to settle with my cats to share my old age. I love them dearly. This was a lovely tribute and I believe Oberon made you a better person.....they can't help it.

Mother always told us,when you're feeling bad look into the eyes of your animals and you'll see unconditional love looking back. With all this emotion flying around here I resolve to make this a Rant-less Sunday. So sorry for your loss.

My very deepest sympathy on the loss of your beloved furfriend. Being there with him at the end was the greatest kindness you could have possibly shown him.

When I lost my beloved cat of 12 years, I was heartbroken and went online looking for an online pet memorial site to post his tribute. I found this poem, then two days later composed this pet tribute. He left this world and crossed over to the Rainbow Bridge at 4:30 am, Sunday morning, October 5th, 2003, at home, on my bed, in my arms......

Rainbow Bridge

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....

Author unknown...

Silent Night Lonely Night
(Silent Night, Holy Night)

Silent Night, Lonely Night
How I wish
You had witnessed my birth
Whispered "Welcome"
My first night on Earth
Stayed with me
Thru the dark night
Until the morning light.

Silent Night Lonely Night
Oh! I loved you as I grew
And I know you so loved me too
Cared for me these many years thru
Kept me sheltered and warm
Through out life's fearful storm.

Silent Night Lonely Night
Now it's time
For me to go
Stay with me please
My last night on Earth
Help me thru my second birth
To my Heavenly Home
Mother don't leave me alone.

Silent Night Lonely Night
Soon I draw
My last breath
Hold my paw
And speak gently to me
'Till my life here cease's to be
My soul flies over yon ridge
To the Rainbow Bridge.
Goodbye...

10-7-03
copyright

Great piece, Rob! For what it's worth, here's a similar piece I wrote about an amazing adventure and friend, also. Hope it's not too long.... Bless you both.

The Gospel According to Me and Lucy

The word Gospel, Old-English for God-Story, strikes me as a good place to start this tale. Or maybe it’s a "tail." Every once-in-a-while we all have experiences which we consider to be milestones in our lives. Specifically, this is a story about how God, Buddhist meditation, some very kind souls, fortune cookies and the Internet reunited me with a very dear friend who had recently departed.

My dog Lucy had been my constant companion for 16 years and twelve days, and was 17 years old, give or take, when kidney disease forced me to euthanize her. This was a very difficult thing for me to do, because we were very, very close, and I knew her departure would cause a huge void in my life, even though I had been preparing for the inevitable for a long time. The last thing I remember saying to her was, "I’ll see you soon, sweetie....." in a teary, incoherent attempt at telling Lucy how much I loved her. This may sound insignificant, but those words, unrehearsed and blurted out, were to haunt me and soon led me on a search that taught me more about myself, God and love than any other event in my 49 years on the planet.

I’ve been a practitioner of Buddhism for about 25 years, now. Meditation has always been a source of wisdom and strength for me, but meditation is difficult to do properly, and it takes quite a bit a practice and trial-and-error stumbling, especially at first. But that said, I feel as if I’ve made a lot of progress in the last 5 years or so, and it’s become a much easier and more natural way to "reset" from life’s many stresses. And occasionally it yields some BIG surprises!

Initially, I was almost relieved that I had made the decision to euthanize Lucy, as her health had been rapidly deteriorating and I was agonizing over my responsibility as her "dad." I knew she was happy, now, wherever she was. But by the end of the day, my words, "I’ll see you soon......" started to eat at me. I wasn’t planning on dying anytime soon. I’m in reasonable health, so even if I live to an average age, I still have 30 years or so left. That’s about two doggie-lifetimes, and I soon realized that I had probably lied to my Lucy, and to myself. Why had I said that? I still don’t know. The words just found their way out. But I had never broken a promise to Lucy, and I wasn’t about to start now. I have believed in reincarnation for many years, so I knew I had to find her, if possible, and keep my word.

I had a lot of questions I needed answers to. In times of great emotional need, meditation sometimes, though not always, does the trick. I think God generally wants us to learn for ourselves, and that’s what experience, as well as pain and suffering, are for. Pain forces us to learn, whether we want to or not. Still, I needed to know something. I asked the question, "God, is Lucy happy where she is, or does she want to come back?" The answer was firm, and immediate.

"She’s happy for now, but she wants to come back."

"Does she want to come back to me, or does she have something else in mind?"

"She would like very much to come back to you." This was huge. It meant that my responsibility to Lucy was not yet over. She wasn’t totalled! She was just getting a new body-job.

"Can you show me what she’ll look like?"

"Here she is...." I got a very clear picture of a chocolate-brown puppy, very young, with a white patch on her shoulder, and a small one on her nose. I got a pretty good view of her face, very round, very dark brown, with long floppy Spaniel or perhaps Beagle ears. Her tail was unusual; it looked more like a tail belonging to a rat, brown with a white tip. Lucy was indeed going to be a distinctive looking dog, if this were the case! And I felt in my whole body that this was the truth. Learning to recognize the sound and feeling of those communications that prove to be true is the key to meditation, and it takes a lot of practice. But by now I knew that this was the real-deal. There’s no other way to explain it; but now I had to put it to the test.

"How will I find her?" I asked.

"You’ll know her when you see her."

"Can you tell me any more?"

"Well, she’ll be the runt of the litter, she'll be born into less than ideal circumstances, and you’ll see her in about 7 weeks."

"Where do I start looking?"

"That’s all for now. I’ll get you through this, one day at a time."

I still had a lot of questions, but I was as happy as a puppy in McDonalds! I knew I’d been given something very special. I knew I was going to see my Lucy, very soon. And I also sensed that I was being taught something very profound.

Your luck will change completely, today.

So read my horoscope for Feb. 28, 2007, the day after Lucy passed away. I did have some good luck that day at a visit to a local thrift store, but I had a feeling that this little prophecy was referring to Lucy. "Was Lucy reincarnated today?" I asked.

"You’ll know her when you see her" came the reply, again. God was going to make me work a little. This is often the case, at least for me. Silence is quite often the answer one gets, although a natural tendency is for one’s fears, superstitions or lower-nature to mislead and make loud voices telling you what you want or expect to hear. Tuning these out is perhaps the biggest challenge for beginners at meditation. That includes me. One needs to listen for the quiet voice, or even silence, to get anywhere while meditating. But it’s always a very distinctive voice, and it’s the one that proves itself over time. Faith is not relevant, here. If it doesn’t prove itself, it’s worthless. Ignore it, fast. And if it tells you to invade Iraq, get professional help, immediately!

I had always wondered whether souls are reincarnated at conception, or at birth. The answer would obviously determine how old Lucy would be when I saw her. An earlier experience involving the death of a close (human) friend had led me to believe that souls enter their new bodies at birth, not at conception. But I hadn’t thought to investigate the gestation period of dogs, which I now know to be nine weeks, and therefore I hadn’t realized that God had already anwered that very question when He / She told me I’d see Lucy in about 7 weeks. Looking back, it seems my horoscope was trying to tell me that Lucy had been re-born that day! Although I must confess that I still hadn’t connected the dots, yet.

When I DID finally connect the dots, I had a lot more new questions than answers. If, in fact, souls enter their bodies at the moment of birth, perhaps when a newborn struggles to take it’s first breath there’s a lot more going on than we realize. And since a fetus is physically connected to its’ mother, where does one start and the other end? Wouldn’t they have to be the same being? Whose umbilical fluids are whose? But, on the other hand, what about the age-old argument that babies in the womb seem to "kick" in time to vibrations, like loud music? How can a fetus move independently of it's mother, if it's not a separate person?

I soon realized that one doesn’t have to look too far to find another example of a body which moves by itself, under its’ own free-will, and can exist independently of its’ host, but which is not a separate person. The sperm does just that, and no-one is ever going to argue that a sperm is a being different from its’ father.

"Is the soul reincarnated at birth, or conception?" I asked. Actually, I asked this many times, and always, the answer was the same.

"The soul is reincarnated moments after birth." So perhaps my Western conditioning, as well as our fundamentalist nut-job Supreme Court, is just flat-out wrong. I may be the only person in the West for whom the issue is settled, but the answer became very clear. At least for me.

The answer to your problem will come when you’re not looking......

.....said my fortune-cookie on March 13. I’m a big consumer of Chinese food, and not just because Chinese restaurants always have a statue of Buddha. It’s much more than that. I hate fast food and I’m a terrible cook. And most importantly, Chinese restaurants usually seem to have good lunch specials! Anyway, I got this advice on a lunch stop on the way back from our local Humane Society. I desperately wanted another dog. But I also knew that the first of my new ‘kids’ had to be Lucy. I just couldn’t bring myself to start over when I knew that Lucy needed me. God or Nature or Consciousness or Jesus or Zeus or Mohammed or the Universe or Krishna or my Higher-Self or my Guardian Angel was telling me to be patient. Perhaps all of the above. And patience never comes easily, and most certainly not for me.

Several weeks passed, without much worth telling. I tried to trust that there were bigger forces at work, and that my impetuous ego was probably going to do more harm than good. If God wanted Lucy and I to be together again, I had to have faith. Actually, I hate the word faith; I think the word TRUST is much more accurate. But either way, I had to let God lead me, and not to be so arrogant as to think that He / She owed me anything. So I let it go, for a time, and got on with one of life’s more insulting and degrading tasks. I got my taxes done. Hell, I was feeling miserable, anyway.......

Try Finding a New Way to Relate to Loved Ones.......

......said my horoscope a couple days later. My initial reaction upon reading this profound tidbit of commercial enlightenment was to scoff. Things were going quite well, overall, in my family life. I think my kin and friends knew how miserable I was, and they were going out of their way to be supportive, and kind. But then I thought for a moment. Does this refer to my quest for Lucy? Am I missing something?

Again, meditation provided the answer. "Try to sense where Lucy is, right now," said someone who I believe is a very old friend, in another realm. So I took his advice. I closed my eyes, concentrated on my old furry friend, and sure enough, I COULD tell where Lucy was! She was due west of me! I could feel her presence, just like I used to know where she was in the house, even if I could not see her. Again, I was so happy I almost cried. I knew she was calling me, and more importantly, I knew I could find her! I had a "homing beacon" to follow.

Work is the Best Medicine.

Came advice from a (living) friend. In spite of my latest revelation, I knew I still had my work cut out for me. So, I got to work. I now had three weeks to go. I searched every newspaper, grocery store message board, veterinarian boards, shelters, Craig’s List and the pound for any word on some new chocolate-brown Spaniel-ish arrivals. This was a period of intense anxiety, for me. It was almost torture to feel Lucy calling me from the west, yet being too helpless and confused to find her. Two more weeks passed, with nothing very significant. I was getting pretty depressed, but trying to keep the "trust." I’d come a long way, and I sure as sin wasn’t going to give up now. I think God perhaps may have felt a little sorry for me, too, because I think He / She gave me a little help, when I had almost given up.

I began to think this was all ridiculous. "This is all in my head. I’m making this whole thing up." Still, I could feel Lucy’s beacon, and it really seemed to be getting stronger. I decided to take a drive for a couple days, to clear my head. I headed south for 120 miles, to Missoula, to see if I could shake the blues and get back on track. It turns out my trip was worthless for it’s intended purpose, but profound for it’s unintended consequences. Even though I could tell that Lucy was directly west of me, I had only a bearing, not a distance. For all I knew, Lucy could have been re-born in Hawaii, which is also to my west! But the trip to Missoula was one of the smartest things I’ve ever done. And I can take ZERO credit for it, because I didn’t think of it until it hit me like a truck. By driving 120 miles south, Lucy’s "bearing" had changed considerably. She was still to my west, but now slightly north, as well! I realized this while standing in a thrift store, in a fog, wondering what strange forces had conspired to get me 120 miles from home, staring at used clothes and broken furniture, for reasons I couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

My life had changed in a New York Nanosecond, AGAIN. I jumped up, snapped out of my haze, and knew exactly what I had to do. I couldn’t get home fast enough. Worse yet, the traffic was miserable on the long drive home. But I think this was also meant to be. I was meant to keep a cool head, and not let my anxiety let me do anything stupid. I had to TRUST that it was all going exactly as it was meant to. But I was so excited I could have died from forgetting to breathe!

Fortunately, I didn’t forget to breathe, even as I ran in the front door and turned on my computer. I immediately logged onto Craig’s List, as I had done so many times before. But this time, I didn’t scan the ads for dogs, I wrote a post of my own.

Wanted: One chocolate brown Spaniel mix puppy, female, seven weeks old, with a white patch on her shoulder. I am a Buddhist and I’m certain that this puppy is an old friend of mine. Any information you can give me on her whereabouts will be appreciated immensely!

What happened next was truly amazing. My post hadn’t been on Craig’s List for more than ten minutes before I received my first reply. It was from a woman in Spokane, Wa. who sent me a link to PetFinder dot com, and said, "Hi. Saw your post. Check out this ad. It’s in Bellingham, Wa. so it’s a long drive, but not too far to drive for your best friend, is it? Good luck, Kaylie." In the ad was a picture of a dog, black and white, trying to get a moment's peace from five tiny Springer Spaniel-mix puppies, all female and nearly seven weeks old. I looked closely at the picture. The farthest puppy in the background was a possible contender for my Lucy, but I couldn’t tell for certain. Still, this was the closest I’d been, yet. I felt I was getting warm. And Bellingham, Wa. IS due west of Whitefish, Mt.

"God, should I go to Bellingham to check this out?" I asked.

"Yes, you should. Don’t be hasty, and don’t forget anything, but you should leave today, if you can." So I quickly dashed off a note to the PetFinder link, packed some food and my laptop computer, and got right back in the car to drive to Bellingham.

I think my pulse rate was 168 percent of normal for most of the next three days. I checked my email on my laptop at every possible opportunity for a reply from PetFinder, and I don’t think I slept much, either. Would I find Lucy? Would the puppy in the picture be available for adoption when I got there? Will Lucy remember me? Will I know it’s REALLY her?

I got to Bellingham in one piece, physically, but not emotionally, a day and a half later. I checked into a hotel, and kept my computer turned on constantly, hoping I could get an opportunity to see the puppies, soon. That evening I remember lying on the bed in my room, trying to get a bearing on Lucy. Sure enough, she was there, at two o’clock, and coming in strong. This was GREAT news. The direction had changed. I was getting VERY warm. And sure enough, I got the call. Yes, the puppies were available, yes, they got my application and yes, I could meet the little ones at 4:30 pm the next day.

That which you can picture in your mind, you will find in your life.

Or so said my fortune cookie, some three hours before my appointment to meet the puppies. I just about choked on my wanton soup! This was the strongest sign yet that I was going to see my best friend, and very soon!

I’ve heard it said that under extreme anxiety, one can actually kind of "black out" and forget where they are. This is about the best way to describe my first meeting with the puppies. I honestly don’t remember a lot about that period of an hour of so. I remember some very cute little dogs, but I knew they weren’t Lucy. I remember almost saying, "Yes, I’d like to adopt this one...." even though I knew it wasn’t my old friend. She was a cute little dog, after all, and I could always continue my search elsewhere, with a NEW friend...... But no sooner had I nearly uttered those words when another woman, Joyce, walked in the yard with another puppy. This one was my Lucy! I knew it right away. She was EXACTLY the dog I had pictured, only about seven weeks older. She had been separated from her sisters, and was living near the Lummi Reservation, in a different location than that of her sisters. A location which WAS, as it turns out, at a bearing of two o’clock from the headboard of a bed in a certain hotel room in downtown Bellingham, my home the night before!

"You’ve had quite an adventure haven’t you, little one," I said as I held my new Lucy.

"Yes, she certainly has," agreed Joyce. "You have no idea."

"I’ll bet I do," I argued, trying not to be cocky, but trying to understand myself the enormity of what had just happened.

The first I can recall regaining my composure was in the parking lot of the Fred Meyer store in Bellingham. I closed my eyes and tried to get another bearing on Lucy, with my new little puppy sitting on my lap. And there was none. No signal whatsoever, other than the light I felt coming through my hands as I stroked my dear old friend’s ears.

I cried for at least ten minutes before I was fit to start the car and the 680 mile drive home. And I’m crying again, now, as I type this, while Lucille-Loise II , aka Lucy-Lou-Two, or just plain "Lou," now a beautiful ten-month-old, sleeps on the same couch, in the same spot, as my Lucy did for nearly 17 years.

There are some things words just can’t describe, and the love God has shown for me and an old friend is most certainly one of them.

Sorry for the loss of your pet Rob. More often then not, our furry friends are more human then humans.

Sorry for your loss Rob. I recently lost a loved pet as well. She was a 16 year old chihuahua named Gypsy. We have other dogs and I dread the day that they get to the point of euthanasia. We hope that when it is their time, they will go quietly in their sleep.

We look at our pets as children, and euthanisation is one of the hardest things to do!

My thoughts are with you during this painful time.

I'm very sorry to hear of your loss. Having loved and lost a number of dogs and cats over the years, I can in some way know a bit of your sorrow.

Someone has pointed out that dog is just God in reverse. Dogs - and cats - are probably the real angels watching us here in this life; they probably stamp our passports into the next world. I believe that how a person treats such animals is a better indicator of character than anything else.

In sincerest sympathy,

T. J. Flapsaddle

My deepest sympathies for the loss of Oberon. As I sit here reading the posts, I am far from dry-eyed. You speak of the Rainbow Bridge, a wonderful image. In my tradition, once my beloveds cross it, they are in Summerland. I see them romping in beautiful fields filled with long grass and wildflowers. It's an image that makes me both weepy and joyful for them.

I cried when I read your story. I do take exception with the crack about cats, though. They can be extremely loyal as well. One of the best watch dogs I ever had was a Siamese cat; I had an aunt who was afraid of coming into the house when she saw him because he had caught her "borrowing" things when we weren't home, and he knew she wasn't supposed to be there. He was one of the most loyal souls I've ever encountered. I've had cats all my life, all of them loving and devoted, who follow me around and not just because I feed them. They are loyal. I lost one to cancer two years ago. It broke my heart.

I've also had dogs my entire life. I grew up with 3 poodles, one of which was devoted to me. When we went to buy a dog, in what I now know was a horrible puppy mill, we could only afford one. Mom chose a miniature black male, but the owner had taken a grey female out prior to that, who stole my heart. Mom decided against her, which caused me to break down in tears. Gigi proceded to lick my tears away from my face, which of course made me cry all the more. The lady said that if we didn't take her, she wouldn't sell her, she was 3 months old them and older than she sold her puppies. Mom didn't budge, even though that meant that the dog would simply become breeding stock. I cried all the way home. When it came time to go pick up the little black poodle two weeks later, my sister came out with a surprise: Gigi. The lady had dropped her price drastically, and Mom gave me the dog I loved.

The third poodle was their puppy from the only litter they ever had. Gigi developed a serious problem after the litter, which precluded other litters. Another might have ruined her health, or worse. She would have died in that wretched place in so many ways. Besides, Mom didn't really feel right about puppies anyway.

Gigi was my constant companion throughout my childhood. She had more personality than most people. If you made a face at her, she'd make the same one back. She had her own way of talking and expressing herself, and her facial expressions were a part of that. This dog was smarter than a lot of people, and more kind and loving. I told her everything; she was my closest confidante and best friend. Anyone who thinks dogs don't have souls have never looked into the eyes of someone like her, or they'd know how stupid they are for believing it. They're the ones without souls.

When I went to college, needless to say, I missed her. Every time I came home from college, she was waiting for me in the window. Mom told me that she stayed in the window all day starting first thing, which is something the other poodles didn't do. Yet she sat there, watching and waiting for me, because somehow this dog knew I was coming home. A soulless creature couldn't possibly do that. Once would be a coincedence, so would a few times: she did it EVERY SINGLE TIME!

HOweverm the time came when she reached the age of 15. She'd had arthritis, but cataracts had also left her blind. The other poodles were in the same boat. Watching my beloved friend suffer as she was was breaking my heart: she could barely walk (and it was obvious that it was killing her to do so), she couldn't see, and her hearing was going. Mom couldn't make the decision to let her and the others go, so finally, I got her to agree, provided, as she insisted, I not tell her when I did it. So I had to be the one to end the life of my best friend from childhood. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I still cry over that dog (I do over my other pets, too) because she wasn't just a dog, as some people like to believe, but she was family.

I was lucky when my son was five to find him a special dog also, a border collie who has been his protector and best friend. For Susie, the world begins and ends with him; although I know she loves me, I am a distant second in comparison. She is 15 now, and has been extremely healthy until recently. She's now going on a special diet for her kidneys, and has had a problem with her joints, and one vestibular problem which threw off her balance seriously as well. Five years ago she had a couple of ruptured discs which I nursed her through; the vet had wanted to put her to sleep then because he wasn't sure she could adjust to less activity. It hasn't been easy, but she has done well, and until recently has still been able to take walks, although the running had to be curtailed. She has still been happy, and a great dog, but I also realize that I may not have her much longer. I've been scared more than once, and I dread having to make a decision that will break my heart as well as Jimmy's.

Again, I really feel for your loss. Losing a pet is losing a family member. They are more human than most people.

OMG, I'm not sure I can see to type, because I'm sitting here bawling my eyes out. I'm so, so sorry about the loss of your wonderful companion, Rob, and to everyone that has experienced the loss of a dear pet. The love they give us is perfect, innocent and enduring. If they could speak our language, I believe that we would be astonished by their intelligence and wisdom.

My deepest sympathies...