NEITHER GONE, NOR FORGOTTEN

I have previously written about my little Buddy. (Oh yeah)! Why, that precious little female Shih Tzu has her own book! She is gone, but not forgotten.

Well, to be sure my previous statement is not quite accurate. Buddy is neither gone, nor forgotten. Granted, Buddy crossed the Rainbow Bridge thirteen years ago. But she just won’t leave us alone; (and honestly, I hope she never will).

I don’t exactly know what I believe about “visitations from the great beyond;” (except the admonition of scripture that we refrain from ‘following after’ such things). I can only bear witness to the unique experiences which were mine, (and mine alone) after my little Buddy left the scene, and the resulting perspective that God can do anything He “jolly well chooses” to do.

It had been, at the most, a few days since Buddy “gave up the ghost” and my emotions were as raw as the day she left us. My furry friend and I had slept in the same bed for years, and there was no one to complain about the arrangement, as my wife had long since “taken up residence” in her own bedroom; due to her work as a shift nurse.

My little Buddy had her own pillow at the foot of the bed. (And I’m not ashamed to admit that after her demise I have kept a token pillow at the end of my bed).

Pt. 2

At any rate, after I resorted to my bedroom one night, and the combination of weariness and grief overcame my wakefulness, I experienced something completely unexpected, and unbidden.

…Breathing

Or at least the sensation of something up against my right shoulder, and that something was

…Respiring.

To be sure, no audible sound escaped the lungs of whatever lay next to me. Only the physical sensation of something breathing in and out, in and out as this non-descript thing lay hard against my shoulder.

And as you might well imagine, several seconds transpired before I conjured up the wherewithal to look. I mean, by this time I was all too aware that I, and I, alone should be the only entity filling up the 65 square foot rectangular surface upon which I resided.

Ultimately, I turned to look.

And what greeted my eyes was,

… absolutely nothing.

That same night, (or possibly a different one) I experienced the sensation of weight against my right foot, as if this same unseen entity was seeking the comfort of the pillow which was lying there.

I can assure you I was wide awake, and that there was nothing about these unseen manifestations kin to the dreams of which I, (and every other inhabitant of the earth) are all too familiar.

Pt. 3

The late Jimmy Stewart, one of my favorite old-time movie stars, once appeared on “The Tonight Show” (with Johnny Carson) and shared one of his ‘home grown’ poems, titled, “My Dog, Beau.”

What he apparently experienced, and upon which he based the following excerpt seems akin to my own experience.

“And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
And I pat his head.

And there are nights when I think
I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,
But he's not there.

Oh, how I wish that wasn't so.
I'll always love a dog named Beau.”

And I suppose if that had been the end of it, a decade later I might still be questioning the reality of what transpired that night.

However…

Pt. 4

As I was walking in my neighborhood one evening, perhaps a month after the loss of my beloved Buddy, and I found myself reminiscing about the old girl,

…I saw it,

(or should I use a different pronoun)?

…I saw her.

Suddenly, not thirty feet ahead of me, what seemed to be a little white pooch appeared out of nothingness, slowly walked across my path way, and entered my neighbor’s front yard.

And as quickly as she appeared, she immediately relinquished her physicality.

I can’t account for why the great actor and I were blessed to realize such momentary manifestations of our precious pooches. But at least for me there remains that quiet reassurance that our pets are alive and well, and reside in a land where the roses never fade, and no tear dims the eye.

Pt. 5

As I have previously implied, it has been thirteen years since Buddy went on to her reward, and pitter-patted across the Rainbow Bridge, and other than an unexpected rash of beautiful wild violets which sprang up over the spot where my little Buddy used to sun herself, (and nowhere else) there was no particular sign or visitation “from the great beyond,”

…Until yesterday.

Even after the passage of almost a decade and a half, my wife and I probably reminisce about Buddy a minimum of one or twice a month. She was an extraordinary dog, and is just plain worth it. And as long as we live, and move, and breathe, we will continue to speak her name.

As a matter of fact, we were talking about Buddy yesterday.

Immediately afterwards I sat down at my computer, and pulled up my social media page, and the first photo which greeted me on the homepage… was my favorite picture of Buddy! It was one of those photographs I posted on my profile page a few years ago; my favorite among dozens we had taken of Buddy during the span of ten years she resided with my wife and me.

After I got off the computer, sat down in front of my television, and clicked the remote for a ‘dose’ of “The Today Show,” the announcer immediately encouraged me, (and several million other people) to

…“Stay tuned. In our next segment we will feature an investigative report on… cloning your pets!

And while I am all too aware of the cloning process, and recently saw the taxidermied remains of Dolly the Sheep in Scotland’s National Museum in Edinburgh, I never had any illusions of doing the same for Buddy.

Pt. 6

Yesterday’s television broadcast “sealed the deal.” For you see, during the course of the segment, I learned that the vet had removed a specimen from her precious “Rover” during a routine procedure, and that she had paid a whooping $50,000 to replicate him!

Did I mention I have the basic elements for cloning Buddy, (and two of my other pooches) in an Altoids tin in my desk drawer? (Yeah. I do). Immediately after my little Buddy crossed the Rainbow Bridge, I had retrieved a pair of scissors, and off cut a lock of her fur.

Of course, as the broadcast continued, I could not help but think of that little lock of white fur which resided in that little red and gold Altoids tin in my very large grey desk; not ten feet away from the beige sofa upon which I sat.

At this juncture I decided to drive to the post office to pick up our mail. As I sat behind the wheel, touched the ignition button, put the car in reverse, tapped the radio icon, and my preset Elvis Radio channel came up, the announcer made me aware that the next tune I would hear was

…”Old Shep”

(I kid you not)!

The unmistakable voice of Elvis Presley filled my rapidly accelerating fifty square feet of metal, leather and vinyl.

“When I was a lad
And old Shep was a pup
Over hills and meadows we'd stray
Just a boy and his dog
We were both full of fun
We grew up together that way

“Old Shep, he grew old
His eyes were fast growing dim
And one day the doctor looked at me and said
‘I can do no more for him, Jim.’

“Old Shep came to my side and looked up at me
And laid his old head on my knee
I had struck the best friend a man ever had
I cried so I scarcely could see

“Old Shep, he has gone where the good doggies go
And no more with old Shep will I roam
But if dogs have a heaven there's one thing I know
Old Shep has a wonderful home.”

Songwriters: ARTHUR WILLIS,CLYDE J. FOLEY

While my little Buddy has long since crossed the Rainbow Bridge, and, like Old Shep, has a wonderful new home, based on her propensity for making herself known, it seems she has neither forgotten, nor neglected her old home, and her loved ones who live in it.

by William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 91. Copyright pending

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