21C-Online - http://21c-online.com

South Florida Online, South Florida Edition of 21C-Online
http://miami-dade-online.com/21C-online.htm

miami-dade-online.com, South Florida's web-based magazine
http://miami-dade-online.com/

About ten years ago, I had my first and only reading by a psychic. One of the first things she said concerned one of my dogs. She described "a large, black dog who is not ill now, but is not going to be around for long."

I asked if she knew which dog, as I had five German Shepherds who all fit that description. She said, "The oldest male."

"Why is he leaving?" I asked.

After a moment of meditation, she said with surprise and some confusion, "He wants to fly again."

When Harold died some ten months later at the rather young age of nine, I remembered her prophesy. He is the big guy in the picture. Next to him is his son Luke.

Harold was not the first pet I have lost to death. He was, however, the first one who confirmed for me, the continuation of life after leaving this Earth Plane. Something went wrong with his heart and I was with him when the Vet "put him to sleep". My hand was on his head. I felt him leave his body. One moment my Harold was there and the next moment he was flying.

It was more than just a desire to believe that my pets have souls that continue beyond what we know as death. With Harold, it was a knowing beyond faith. I simply felt the transition between his life as my dog and his life as an everlasting soul.

Harold had come to me as a puppy. Within a couple of years Amanda arrived. She was also a pure German Shepherd pup, but almost all black. A few years later we had puppies. There were nine and three stayed. Luke and his two sisters Rose and Elly joined their parents, as "my dogs".

The puppies were born on the first President Bush's Inauguration. Even in South Florida they had to be protected from the January cold. By the age of six weeks, they were moved to the outside pen. Before I got them all locked up, Luke took off across the yard toward his father.

Now, up until that moment, Amanda had not let Harold get near her puppies, even though Harold had been a concerned and dutiful father. For the first two weeks after the pups arrived, Harold had gone into the back bedroom to check up on them every twenty minutes. Yes, every 20 minutes he went back and took a look, until bedtime when he slept outside the room. After awhile, the duration between checkups grew, but Harold was always aware of the puppies.

So, here the little Luke runs after him and Harold did not know what to do. He ran a few feet away and the puppy chased him again. This little run and scoot went on for a few minutes, when Amanda took notice. I had been watching while getting her and the other puppies in the pen. Amanda charged out into the yard at Harold. I yelled to her and she stopped.

She looked at me and I said, "I think it's time you let Harold play with the puppies."

I swear she shrugged her shoulders before running over to Harold and playing with him. It was as if she was telling Harold it was alright and showing Luke what to do. From that day until Harold died, the Father and Son never left each other's side.

When I came home from the Vet's without Harold, Luke was severely agitated. When I did not go get Harold, Luke acted as if he blamed me. Within a few days of Harold leaving us, all four remaining dogs began tearing out their fur. They knew he was gone. He did not appear to be coming back. I never anticipated the anxiety, confusion, and grief being displayed. Full of my own loss, I failed to understand the depth of theirs.

The hair loss was finally found to be from mites. But, the reason the mites took hold was that the dogs were under stress and their immune systems weakened. I dealt with the mite problem and the physical condition of the dogs improved. But, I failed to deal with the emotional problems. But, time appears to heal everything. Luke eventually seemed to have put his grief behind him.

A couple of years later, we lost Amanda and Elly within months of each other. Luke again went into a tail spin. But, this time, instead of cremation, as in Harold's case, I brought their bodies back to the property and buried them. This time, Luke got to see death first hand. Luke saw the bodies of his mom and sister and saw they were not "alive" anymore.

Luke fell into a state of depression again. He was not eating and losing weight. I finally dealt with the situation. I took him out into the yard and sat down with him. "Luke," I started, "Harold, Elly and Amanda are not coming home. It isn't that they wanted to leave. They were sick and could not stay. Some day, you and Rose and all the cats will also leave. It is called death."

I did not really anticipate Luke would understand my words. That big dog did understand, somehow. Luke began this low howl. I knew it was his way of crying. I held him with tears streaming down my face while he continued his low howling. Rose heard him and ran over as if asking, "What's happening?"

I explained to her, as I had to Luke, how death took the others and how death was not the enemy. Sickness and old age are the enemy. Death is the final reward we all will have, when living is too painful.

Again, I did not anticipate the reaction. I swear Rose said, "Oh, are they gone. Yes, I guess I haven't seen them in awhile." Rose spent her life laughing. Years later in September of 1999, Rose died at home. Luke and I buried her in the back yard with the others. In addition to the dogs, we had buried three cats.

When Luke got sick this Spring, the Vets operated to remove a growth on his spleen. It turned out to be malignant. Although he recovered from the operation, the cancer had already spread. A few weeks later, I realized he was not good. I asked him if he wanted to go see the Vet. I asked him if the pain was too great to stay. I asked him if he wanted to fly.

After a very long and bad night of worry with both Cyndi and I listening to Luke's coughing and labored breathing, the Vet's office was opened. Luke, Cyndi and I went over. Luke seemed to be better and his vet did not want to see a sick dog. The Vet asked me what I wanted to do.

"It's not what I want, Doctor. It is what Luke wants." That was what I wanted to say. Instead I recounted the symptoms of a sick dog, dying of cancer, agitated and probably in pain. In the end, I hope his doctor was alright with what we had to do.

Cyndi, Luke and I were alone in the room while medical preparations were made. Luke went over to her and put his head in her lap. I never asked Cyndi what they said to one another. I know he was thanking her for everything and was saying goodby. He and I already had said what need to be said, that which could never be said enough.

Luke is flying now, with Harold, Amanda, Elly, Rose and a pride of cats. They are always just a thought away. And, while I taught Luke many things, in the end he taught me the most precious lesson. Luke taught me how to face death with knowingness, courage, and gratitude. For death is not necessarily the enemy. When it gets too painful to stay, death is the doorway to flight.

Scientists have determined that everything we see in the material world from the sun to the finger on our hand comprise only 5% of all that is. 95% of what exists in the Universe is invisible to us.

Thanks for your participation.

www.miami-dade-online.com is published  and Copyrighted 1999, 2000, 2001 by Online Publications.com, Inc. All submitted articles retain the copyright of the author and do not necessarily represent the opinions of the staff or editors of  www.miami-dade-online.com, 21C-Online.com or Online Publications.com, Inc.
(KEYWORD AOL "WILDERYARD").
E-Mail us at Wilderyard@aol.com