From Nigel’s Secret Journal, #2

My humans believe that since Noah died nearly a year ago,  I’ve been lonely. Depressed. It’s one of the reasons they’re always glad when Nika, Megan’s dog, comes to visit. It’s why they do this thing called Rover, where dogs come to play with me for the day. I’m always happy with visiting dogs, especially Nika because she and I are connected through Noah and she’s a really old soul. Wise. She tells me secrets at night when my humans and the cats are sleeping.

Megan adopted Nika when she was eight weeks old and Noah was two. He was her big brother. Her role model. And she was his joy. I was adopted when I was ten weeks old and for the next two years, Noah was my big brother. When Nika came to visit us, we were a pack and what wild fun we had!

Then one week Noah stopped eating. He went to the vet a lot, I could smell the place on him when he came home. He didn’t want to play. We slept curled up to each other. I was sad because he was sad. And one morning he wobbled into the family room, managed to climb up onto the couch next to me, rested his head on my haunches, and drifted away. I mean, I still felt the weight of his head, but he wasn’t there. He stood next to the couch, his body lighter, almost transparent, and he wasn’t in pain anymore. My humans went berserk with grief.

I tried to tell them he wasn’t gone, that he was with me when I chased Frisbees at the dog park, in the backyard, that he was showing me about how much fun it was to chase squirrels. But they couldn’t see him.

Recently, Nika was with me for a couple of weeks and we talked about it. One morning in the front yard, she said, “Hey, dude, let me show you something. Follow me.”
So I did. We took off through the neighborhood, racing each other to the park at the end of our neighborhood. The park isn’t completely fenced in, but Nika knew the boundaries. We sniffed our way to the end of the field, where the trees are thick, the benches are shaded, and Noah was with us, talking to us.

“Hey, I’m always with you two. Sometimes I’m that squirrel that scampers across the top of the fence, teasing you two. Other times I’m in that flock of birds that sail across the sky at dusk. There’re only a few rules. Love everyone, judge no one. Humans, other dogs, cats, squirrels, birds, butterflies, mice, lizards, even roaches. We’re all in this together.”

Then Noah became a butterfly and flew back toward the front of the park. When our humans figured out where we’d gone and found us, a butterfly touched down on the top of the car. A Monarch. Our humans equate butterflies with transformation and talked about whether this was spirit contact with Noah, a synchronicity.

For Nika and me, it was magic. It was Noah.