In the past couple of weeks, I’ve heard from several friends whose pets have died or are about to die. Any of us who have pets – cats, dogs, guinea pigs, turtles, whatever they are – eventually reach the point where the animal buddy is dying or dies and our hearts break.
There’s something profound about spending 10 or 15 years with an animal buddy – or several – that changes your life. It’s different with each animal. For us, it’s been Golden Retrievers, cats, and a Dusky Conure. The Goldens have all been special.
The first Golden, Jessie, was a gorgeous red dog who had flunked out of training to sniff out drugs in high school lockers, a job she clearly didn’t want, so we adopted her We had her for 10 fantastic years.
During that time we also had Kali a Dusky Conure who enjoyed interacting with the dogs, the cats, the humans. She used to spend her days outdoors, her cage under a tree, the door open so that she could climb out and enjoy the real outdoors. Rob taught her to ride on Jessie’s back to the treat area. He would then give her a dog treat that she dropped into Jessie’s mouth.
She died in the aftermath of Hurricane Wilma, a month after my dad died.
At the time, we also had 3 cats – our black and white boy, Whiskers; our girl Fox; and our other girl, Powder, a pure white. Kali charmed the three of them. I think there’s some sort of telepathy that occurs among different species of pets, an agreement to learn from each other, respect each other. The night we knew that Jessie was on her way out, Powder curled up next to her, slept with her, and seemed to offer comfort.
The day that I knew Powder was dying, she had 3 dogs around her – Nika, Noah and Nigel. I was sitting on the porch with the cat and dogs and went inside to get some water. When I came back they were all gone. I went outside and found a hole at the side of the house that the dogs had dug and that Powder had crept into. I brought her back onto the porch and the dogs followed. A few hours later when she died, I realized the dogs had dug the hole for her, Powder’s burial site. And that’s where I buried her.
Our backyard is a pet cemetery, but not in the Stephen King mode. Kali is also buried somewhere out there with Powder, with Fox, a cat we’d had since Megan’s birth, our beautiful orange cat Simba, and our feisty boy, the black and white cat, Whiskers.
We got Nigel in 2017, when a friend texted me that a couple in Boca were giving up a pair of Golden Retriever pups they’d bought 2 weeks earlier and was I interested? I immediately ran over to the woman’s house and so did my friend Caren Griffin. Nigel and Sunny were running around the woman’s living room. Caren and I waited patiently to see which dog would come to whom.
Nigel crawled into my lap, Sunny crawled into Caren’s lap. The deals were sealed.
I brought Nigel home and Noah took him in and became his mentor. The cats loved him. When Noah was dying two years later, Nigel was literally at his side. Noah made his way to the family room, got onto the couch next to Nigel, rested his head against Nigel’s body, and died.
Nika was living in Orlando with our daughter then, but when she came back here on a visit she spent a lot of time searching the house for Noah. She’d grown up with him after Megan had adopted her in 2011.
He was too big to bury in our yard. He’d been cremated and eventually she realized he was gone and curled up next to Nigel. They’ve been almost inseparable ever since.
With all of these animals, whether they are dead or alive, they are friends, buddies, wise beings whose lives unfold within us, around us.
For the people who have emailed me about losing their pets, I’ve recommended they contact Heather Bristol, an animal communicator we wrote about in our newest book, The Shift, or to Suzanne Cunningham, a Reiki healer, or to Tammy Billups, whose book Animal Wayshowers, lays out her case that animals are the embodiment of 5D Consciousness.
Each of these women is a beacon in the vast sea of humanity who grasp the importance of the matrix we share with our animal friends.
After all, these buddies offer unconditional love. And through their love they offer us insight into their souls – and our own.
Simba
Nika & Piper
Kali
