Dear Frankie. Are You In There?

Posted by Barbara Techel

Dear Frankie…

Is that you in there? As I drove home from the vet office, your beautiful box beside me, the tears came once again.

The minute I walked into the house, I opened the box to find your cremains wrapped in burgundy tissue.  I slowly unwrapped the tissue, knowing full well what lay beneath, but wanting more than anything for it to really be you- to be able to hold your sweet, soft body once again and kiss the side of your snout a thousand times.

It felt odd to come to the plastic bag holding what is now left of you. Is this all that is really left of you? It’s a part of you, this I realize, and this box containing you shall be sacred to me. But I realized, too, that this is not you.

You are all around me and in me… embedded forever in my heart. I read something today that said, “Footprints of love.”  That is you, dear Frankie…. that is you.  Oh, the footprints of love you have left behind.

I told a friend in an email that though there are times I can’t bear not having you here,  I would not trade having had  you here just becuase I knew the loss someday would be so hard to go through.  I’ve realized deeply in the past two weeks that my ultimate pride and joy was caring for you each and everyday.  I loved sharing you with all the children we met, too, and sharing your story in every way possible that I could, but when it comes down to the core of what I loved most about you– it was taking care of you and helping you live the best quality life that you could —and just being with you in the simple little moments of life. I was truly in my most happy state of joy just being there for you and being with you.

Last week Saturday a friend at the Farmer’s Market said to me, “Frankie completed you.” She is right– you so completed me.  Not only did you complete me, but you helped to complete me- to help me grow into the woman I am today. I knew there would be a day when you saw I was strong enough for you to move on, and though I never wanted that day to come, my heart smiles because you did all this for me… and so much more.

I’ve thought a lot about the day I was told you had only a 10-30% chance of walking after rupturing your disk. I think about if I had let fear paralyze me, fear that I couldn’t take care of a handicapped dog, fear that my life would change, and angry that this was happening to me. I just can’t imagine not having had the last almost thirteen years with you, with the last almost seven being some of the most powerful and life changing moments I’ve ever experienced.

So dear Frankie, though your cremains lie still in the small sacred space of the beautiful brown box, your life and all it was, continues to be full of life all around me.

Not to hurt our humble brethren is our first duty to them, but to stop there is not enough. We have a higher mission—to be of service to them wherever they require us.  ~Saint Francis of Assisi

 

Frankie Taught Me to Not Be Afraid to Speak My Truth

Posted by Barbara Techel

It may be hard for some to imagine how a 14 inch long by 10 inch tall dog could teach me so much about life– but Frankie taught me tons.

The evening of Frankie’s passing I was sitting at my kitchen table having a glass of wine.  John was gone to an event that he didn’t really want to go to, but had guests attending. I was feeling a bit lost and just trying to move through the rest of the day after having said goodbye to Frankie that morning.

I had the front door open and Kylie was gazing outside. She then began barking which meant either someone was walking by or coming to the door.  As I looked out, I saw two elderly men shuffling up the sidewalk, literature in hand. Oh no, I thought. I knew they saw me so I couldn’t pretend like I was not home.

I cracked the door open and Kylie pushed it the rest of the way open bounding outside barking. The two men were dressed in plaid shirts, suspenders, and long trousers and they seemed a bit startled at Kylie’s ferocious bark.  I said, “Don’t worry, her bark is worse than her bite.”  They smiled meekly as if they were not sure whether to believe me or not.

The taller man now standing on the front stoop said, “Do you believe in heaven?”

I said, “Yes.  In fact my little dog just went to heaven this morning.”

His eyebrows raised and he seemed at a loss for words. The shorter man  then stepped up on the stoop and said, “Did you just say your dog went to heaven today?”

“Yes. My little dog went to heaven today.”

He said, “Well, do you know that the only way to heaven is through Jesus Christ?”

“Yes, I believe that.”

“Do you go to church?”

“No, I don’t believe you have to go to church to believe in God.”

Somewhat surprised he said, “Yes…. yes, I suppose you are right.”

I said, “I have my own time with God everyday.”

“So then you read the Bible?”

“No, I read a little booklet called, Daily Word.”

“Well okay. If you want to ever come visit our church here is some information.”

I took the literature and said, “Thank you.”

They then shuffled their way back down the sidewalk.

I sat back down at the kitchen table and started to chuckle.  It is not often that we have people show up in our neighborhood such as these two fellows talking about God.  Because I am open to receiving signs that Frankie is still with me, I couldn’t help but think she had sent those two men to my front door.  You see, because of Frankie I became braver in being who I am and saying what I believe in. I used to be afraid I’d be judged if I told others I didn’t believe in going to church. I couldn’t help but think it was her testing me, now that she was physically gone, and reminding me, that it is perfectly okay to speak my truth.

I also can’t help but wonder what those little two old men thought of a red-eyed, wine drinking woman saying her little dog went to heaven today.  I’m sure they never expected that– but oh, did it make me smile.

 

 

 

 

A Special Visitor at My Writing Cottage Today

Posted by Barbara Techel

He is kind of a funny looking wiener dog, don’t you think?  Well that’s because he is a Teddy Bear dog (or also referred to as a rag doll dog).  His name is Marley.  And no, he is not mine- he is a visitor to my writing cottage today.  He belongs to my dad and his wife.  He will be one year old in October, so still a puppy with lots of energy.  I’m dog sitting him today– with great pleasure.  He is having fun exploring my little cottage, though is scaring the birds away in the bird bath when he barks!  I think you will agree though, he is quite the cutie pie!