pet grief

Do Our Pets Send Us Messages?

Posted by Barbara Techel

merciMERCI

I met Jayne a few years ago when I did therapy dog work with Frankie at our local hospice community. Her black standard poodle, Magic, fell in love with Frankie. Magic and Jayne were quite the striking duo and Jayne taught Magic to dance. It was beautiful to watch.

A year or so ago (I believe) Jayne brought Merci into her life. Seven weeks ago, Magic unexpectedly passed away.  When she emailed me with the news I called her immediately. We talked for a long time.

Jayne is single and lives alone. Her Magic was now gone. Yes, she has Merci, but she and Magic had a special bond.

A few days ago I heard from her. She is still struggling with the passing of Magic.

She said, “Magic made everything easy for me. He was confident and followed my lead. Merci is different. She is timid and lacks confidence.”

I could tell by her thoughts that she was really missing Magic and she didn’t know how Merci would ever be like him, realizing that she won’t. She knows she has to accept this.

I could very much relate to everything Jayne shared as I went through all of this with the loss of Frankie. Joie is different and I’ve had to move through that for myself, which has not been easy at times.

The one thing I suggested to Jayne was to talk to Merci. Actually talk to her out loud. This was suggested to me about two months ago from animal communicator, Dawn that I worked with in regards to Joie and what I was struggling with. I told Joie that yes, I miss Frankie. But that does not mean I don’t love her.  I told her I am trying and would continue to do all I could to help develop our own unique and special relationship.

I also realize now not ever having adopted a dog and this being Joie’s third home, that she had her own insecurities and likely trust issues.  Was I going to also give her away could have very likely been a concern of hers.  I told her she is here to stay. I’ll never give her away. I love her and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure this will always be her home.

It may sound silly, but yet so simple. Jayne gave it a try with Merci and this is what she wrote back to me:

“I think Frankie and Magic are sending us a both a message!  As I have been typing to you this morning, Merci has been quietly laying behind my desk. When I went to talk to her, as you suggested, I looked at her and started to cry. She rarely plays with any toys. They are all in a basket in my office as Magic liked to occasionally play with toys. I saw she had quietly pulled a toy from the basket and was sleeping with it in her bed. The toy…a dachshund toy with a Santa hat…that Magic used to love to carry around. I told him that toy was Frankie and he always acted like he knew exactly what I meant. How fitting that Merci would pick that toy out of a basket of 30+ toys to cuddle with as we corresponded today about our lost loves.”

I’m left with no doubt that our pets communicate with us whether they are here in physical form or not. I know for me, since talking with Joie (and I continue to do so), I feel a wonderful shift in our relationship. We are learning to ebb and flow with each other. Yes, it’s in a different way than I had with Frankie.  But she is Joie. A sweet dog who loves me unconditionally and has stood by trusting we will find our way together.

I’m pretty sure that Jayne and Merci will also find their way together and it won’t be like Magic. But there will be magic, mystery, and love in all the new things and experiences she and Merci will have.

Note:  Thank you, Jayne, and Merci, of course, for allowing me to share part of our correspondence.  I feel honored to have been a part of this sweet, amazing experience.

Reflecting on a Year Since Frankie Died- A Celebration of her Life

Posted by Barbara Techel

frankie photo from kristiI never really said goodbye.

No goodbye because I continue to feel the love of Frankie in my heart.

No goodbye because I made the conscious choice before she died to deeply inhale the smell of her, embrace the feel of her warm, soft body, and sit with the memories of the joy and love she gave me.

No goodbye because I want every June 21st to be a celebration of Frankie’s life and all those she touched.

I honestly don’t know if I believe in the rainbow bridge. That is hard for me to share, as I realize many do. It’s not my intent to dishonor what is right for others. I understand it’s a way for many in dealing with, and moving through, their own loss. I respect that.

I believe Frankie and I are still together–she is just in a place I can’t see. But I trust she is where she needs to be–wherever that is. So I’m not sure she is waiting on the other side of a bridge.

I’m also not sure if she is really some “place”, but rather it feels as if she is  this illumination of divine light and love that makes my heart smile when I think of her. The love and light seems to come and go at just the right time when I need it.

To me, she is just here in a different way. A lighter way. A deeper way, and in many ways, a more meaningful way.

Reflecting on other pets I’ve lost, they were all hard. But Frankie’s passing was the most difficult to date I’ve experienced.

The beauty of it though?

How I’ve grown deeper in my spirituality once again, and in my own way of dealing with a profound loss.

I allowed the grief to swallow me at times. I swam in it, and almost felt as if I’d drown, feeling deeply every inch of the pain of losing her. I didn’t try to run from how bad my heart hurt. At times, it was so intense I honestly didn’t think I’d move through it. But I called upon my faith more than any other time that I can recall. I reminded myself to believe I’d find my way back to happy again.

I did. This, to me, is honoring the ultimate blessing that Frankie truly was to me– to many.

When I now feel joy, I feel it even more magnified for having moved through something I thought would crush my heart into tiny pieces.

I see now that my purpose grew even more defined. Caring for a dog that would become paralyzed was not a choice I would have made for my life. But then wanting to someday love another little one with special needs was something my soul yearned for as I moved through the years with Frankie.

The gift of Frankie, who opened my eyes to something I may never have otherwise seen.

I feel in a good place these days with Frankie at peace in a place that makes her happy. It’s no longer about her helping me, but a place that she can simply be. A place in my heart that rests easy in knowing we will always be connected in our own, unique way. A knowing that I can go on, and I am going on. That I will love again, and am loving again.

It took work for me to get here. Real work of accepting my process. Real work of allowing sadness to seep into every inch of my being. Real work of trusting I’d find joy again… even though Frankie’s physical presence is no longer here to remind me of how far I’ve come.

Reflecting back, I’d do every bit of life with Frankie all over again knowing my heart would shatter like nothing I’ve felt before.

And now… being fully present to this moment, here and now, I give my deepest gratitude for the love of Frankie who brought me to this time of now loving and caring for little Joie.

No goodbyes… only a journey that continues in just the way it is meant to be.

I. am. Blessed.

**The Life and Legacy of Frankie lives on with National Walk ‘N Roll Dog Day.  Join us on Facebook to continue to spread the positive message that dogs in wheelchair live quality lives if given a chance.