A Lost Prayer, Found

cassie jo in chairThe other night out of the blue (so it seemed) John said, “Cassie Jo will be gone 10-years this year.”

I said, “Wow, you are right. July 11, 2005, one week before my birthday is when she passed away. What made you just think of that?”

He had been cleaning out some office files. And what a gift that he came across what I called “A Closing Prayer” that I had written for Cassie Jo, our chocolate Lab who had just turned ten at the end of June that year.

I wrote this prayer two months after we had decided where we wanted to scatter her ashes.

I always take this as signs from our beloved pets that their spirit is reminding us of the love we shared with them. And I welcomed re-visiting what I had wrote to her, feeling a flood of pure love flow through me as I did.

I must also share that I do refer to the Rainbow Bridge in my prayer, though I’m not so sure what to feel about that these days. I have mixed emotions about it – but I do understand it as a symbol for many to find a place in their hearts to connect with the pets they have lost and love so much. I truly get that as I felt that way too at one time.

But for me now, I feel more and more like their spirit is around us often – a part of them always a part of us – so in that essence they are not somewhere else waiting – but they are among us – just in a way in which we can’t see. This is just how I see it these days. I’m not saying there isn’t a Rainbow Bridge, as it certainly helped me many times with the passing of many pets before this.

However we each honor our pets and remember them is what is important – and how we take what they taught us and learn to be better human beings – that, I think, is one of their greatest gifts and the best way in which we can honor them.

A Closing Prayer for Cassie Jo

Time to say our final good-bye, to gently let the wind sift through your ashes and place you oh, so softly, among the beauty of nature—a part of you we release to lay on the soft green blades of grass under the maple tree in front of our olive green home we call our cottage in the village.

Another area of rest we release you to is the serene and mystical marsh where you and Papa would play and bond your hearts together every Sunday morning. At the marsh a part of you we let go to frolic among the flowers, another to float lazily down the river, and a part to run free among the field of bounty.

Two months to the day we helped to ease you over the Rainbow Bridge and watched as you lay in peace, free of pain, and once again, a puppy of your youth returned as you entered heaven.

We still miss you so much, my dear Cassie Jo – our hearts will always feel an ache, but as the days have passed, smiles have returned to our hearts as we talk about all the blessings you brought to our lives.

We lovingly referred to you as our “little pony” on days you were full of sunshine and energy, and romped through the yard, your ears flapping in the wind, and your tail propelling you to run faster.

So, today we lovingly scatter your ashes to the earth, our “little pony” to run free forever, with love and joy.

We will see you again someday and when that day comes, it will be a day unlike any we lived with you on this temporary existence called earth. Till then, know that you will always live within each of our hearts and know because of you, we are stronger and gentler people because of all you taught us.

-Barbara Techel

Sept. 11, 2005

Coming Back as a Dog

best buddies sI notice that when I don’t want to deal with uncomfortable feelings or a challenging situation that I often times find myself thinking and saying this one thing over and over. “I wish I were a dog. I wish I were a dog.”

Next thing I’ll think is, “Well, at least I want to come back as a dog in my next life.” Of course, I want to be in a home where they will spoil me rotten. Much like the home of mine where my dog’s are given lots of love everyday.

But then I also realize once again how I’m being reminded to take my cue from them. When life feels uncomfortable or stressful, it’s time to chill out and give thought to all the blessings I do have. Dog’s don’t get caught up in all the negative. They find joy right here and right now.

They  don’t worry about the next day or for that matter, the next minute. Unless, of course, if you are Gidget, and you can read a clock and you just happen to know when dinner time is. Then that is all she thinks or cares about until she is fed.

But really, when you take the time to pause, sit in the presence of your pets, and really pay attention to what is is they are exuding, well, it truly is difficult to feel anything but happy and positive.

So maybe I’d still like to come back as a dog—to help humans around me see appreciate what life is really about. That would be cool. So I guess for now, I best keep paying attention and learning all I can from them for the next phase of my life in another realm someday.

So thank you Gidget and Kylie for being such inspiring teachers and showing me without words what matters. You are my two of my greatest gifts.

Kylie: The Helper Dog

IMG_2228 eIn case you are new to following my online journal, in fun, I sometimes refer to my husband, John, as the Gingerbread man when he is all bundled up in his winter bib overalls and coat which is a ginger color. And Kylie, normally a strawberry colored Lab in the summer, her coat turns almost the same ginger color as John’s bibs and coat during the winter months. Hence, the reference below as Gingerbread man and Gingerbread dog.

The Gingerbread dog has very important tasks at the end of each day. Rain, snow, or sleet, she is needed.

Her job—assist the Gingerbread man.

Being a Gingerbread man running his own construction business of remodeling Gingerbread houses, this calls for an attentive assistant.

One that can be at his side to help haul materials from the Gingerbread work shed to the Gingerbread van.

Kylie, the Gingerbread dog must be on her toes, ready to assist and give a lending paw.

So you see, this is the idea of the Gingerbread man.

But the Gingerbread dog has other plans.

This should come as no surprise when you are a Labrador.

There is no time to assist the Gingerbread man who is struggling through the snow to carry work horses.

Oh no! Gingerbread dog must sniff the ground, burying her snout deep, to sniff out intruders that come upon our land.

Then she must fall to the ground, rub her head in some disgusting dropping left from the intruder as the Gingerbread man tries to stop her. The operative word here being tries.

But Gingerbread man loses…. every. single. time.

Gingerbread dog, happy with leaving her scent behind to stop the intruders and let them know this is her territory, trots off down the path, full of happiness that only a Lab can know.

Gingerbread man shakes his head in disgust, but also smiles, for the love of a dog who is his best friend.