“Because of the dog's joyfulness, our own is increased. It is no small gift. It is not the least reason why we should honor as love the dog of our own life, and the dog down the street, and all the dogs not yet born.“ Mary Oliver
We met in Nahant, Massachusetts, at my parent’s house. I was unmoored and about to move across the country to Portland, Oregon, from Virginia, and was visiting at the time Sophie came on the scene from Singapore. I had heard many Sophie tales from my brother and family over the years, but when I actually met this spry and sturdy little character, I fell head over heels. I immediately took her to Dog Beach and we got our groove on.
We clicked. We both had curly hair and we both liked to move quickly and with a good deal of zest. She was in transition, and so was I, and we really needed each other.
I won’t go into the depressing details of that early time we were together. It’s all in my book, Loveseed: The Template For Birthing A New World, and Sophie was one of the biggest reasons I got through it all and was able to write the book.
When both my knees blew up and my once athletic body had a hard time walking, not to mention my sinking spirits, Sophie’s joy was like manna from heaven. With her exuberant spirit even late in years, she needed to take long walks in the Oregon woods, and I came along for the ride.
We made a pact, Sophie and I, and it was one of the most important parts of our relationship. I promised her I would see her all the way to the very end of this earthly life, and if I could have a say In how it would go, I would be holding her and she would not be in pain. Making this agreement at a time I was not really seeing much reason to remain alive was very significant!
She made a kind of promise too, moment by moment, to show up full on with nothing held back.
We both kept our agreements. I realized that today, which is the day I said good-bye to Sophie’s earthly body. I had been wrestling with the question about her life for days. The quality of her life had diminished to mostly sleep, she had been taking a dog weight gainer supplement for over a year and then in the past few days, she cried when she was awake and not being held. She still gobbled down the dog casseroles I had been making her for months, so we continued on.
Sophie was masterful as he surrendered to her decline. She lived fully in the moment, and she embraced the power of her nows. She didn’t worry, or compare, or lament that her little body was scrawny or that her once abundant fur (her original name was Snowball) was sparse and yellowed. She was masterful in the art of letting go, and she expected the Universe would yield to her…and it did. The promises we made came true.
She stopped eating yesterday, and her little hind legs had given out. I had asked her over and over to let me know when she was ready, and we were at last there. I had contacted a dog intuitive the day before, but with no response, so I knew I needed to talk with Sophie directly. We always had.
She wanted me to know that she felt my love all the way to her little black nose.
She thanked me for keeping my promise.
She told me that she had more fun in these past years than she ever could have imagined.
She reminded me that life is about joy and to feel joy when I think of her.
She promised she would find me again.
I asked if she would let me know when she was around.
She said in the moments I feel joy I will know.
I thanked her for being my best of best friends.
I thought of the words from Mary Oliver’s poem In Blackwater Woods on the way to the Veterinary Hospital today. It brought me such comfort!
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
What happened when I said good-bye to my dog is that I set my dog free, as well as a part of me that is forever connected to her. She showed me directly that the act of being committed to the wellbeing of another is a gift that never stops giving. The pain of letting her go transformed into the love that never dies. What I am left with is deep gratitude and a well of memories that make me smile.
