HELLO AGAIN

I have previously written about my Buddy, a precious, little pooch that we loved more than life. And though she has been gone almost a decade and a half, something occurred in the past few days which “brought it all flooding back” to me again.

But to return for a moment to the day she made her first appearance in our lives.

It was the winter of 1996, and as I drew open the front curtains in our living room, I immediately noticed two puppies frolicking in our front yard. But these weren’t just the ‘garden variety’ of canines. They were Shih Tzu’s; an expensive breed, indeed. One was white and auburn. The other was white with black trim. And as you might imagine, I stepped out my front door, and picked up the little things; one in each hand.

I can’t account for it now, but it never occurred to me to call the pound, or take the precious things to a vet to check for chips; (if indeed they implanted chips a quarter century ago). But, rather, I lifted my garage door, and placed them there for safekeeping. (At that time, I was especially sensitive about parasites, and didn’t want them bringing fleas into my house).

However, I had neglected one crucial ingredient. The rear door of our garage needed repair, and I discovered it could be easily pushed open. (As you might imagine, I realized this after two little canine toddlers managed to push it open).

They were gone, and there was little or nothing I could do about it.



Pt. 2

Or at least I thought.

A couple of days came, and went, and our doorbell chimed about 8pm one evening. Opening the door, I was greeted by our daughter in law; whom we knew was scheduled to drop by that night.

She was holding the white and auburn little Shih Tzu which had escaped from my garage. The poor thing was shivering like it had been dipped in freezing water.

Walking in, Renae told us that as she rounded the curve into our cul de sac, she noticed the tiny pooch next to our neighbor’s mailbox. And lying at her feet was her little Bro. He had obviously been hit by a car, and was well beyond help.

Our (yet unnamed) Buddy could not be consoled. I am convinced she was in shock. The only friend she possessed on earth had “gently stepped away;” (But, sadly, not all that gently).

I immediately noticed something different about the precious pooch which lay in our daughter in law’s hands. Whereas, just days ago the puppies were dirty and matted, by now the small creature had been washed and groomed. It was apparent that Buddy and her little Bro had been rescued by another party, washed and groomed, but had once again made good their escape.

Buddy remained with us a full ten years, and, subsequently, prepared to make her journey home; her eternal home. I have written a small volume about Buddy, and my other dog, Lucy. Suffice it to say, Buddy loved, and was loved, and will never be forgotten.

(As a matter of fact, she did a more than adequate job to assure that would never happen; which will soon become apparent).

Pt. 3

Perhaps a week before Buddy “crossed the Rainbow Bridge” I was holding her, and, for no apparent reason, she began to tremble. The momentary manifestation lasted all of a couple of minutes. However, as I reflected on the event later, I was convinced she had been afforded a glimpse of what awaited her within a few short days.

She left us in the course of a night, and I was thankful that I didn’t have to have her,… well, you know.

And as I have inferred, I have written exhaustively about her life, (and her afterlife). But allow me to reminisce, reflect, remember and repeat myself a bit here.

One late evening, after I resorted to my bed, and was attempting to sleep, I sensed something; an extraordinary something. For something invisible, but which manifested weight, was suddenly lying against my right shoulder! And there was this uncanny sense of respiration! In and out. In and out. And while I don’t recall actually hearing that recurrent exchange of oxygen, the proximity of the being allowed me to feel it.

Since my wife is a nurse, and we ‘enjoyed’ different schedules, she and I had long since maintained separate bedrooms. Buddy slept on my bed. And this dear little critter spent her last night on earth on my bed.

I can tell you that while I was surprised at this development, there was absolutely no fear. But rather, there was a sense of comfort, and the identity of my nocturnal visitor was readily apparent to me.

At this juncture, I can’t tell you how long the miraculous visitation lasted, perhaps as little as a minute, perhaps as many as five. And in like manner, I cannot begin to tell you whether the second manifestation occurred on the same, or on a different evening.

Pt. 4

But as I was drifting off to sleep on that, or a different evening, I sensed a familiar something at my felt.

I kept a pillow for Buddy at that end of the bed, and when wakefulness gave way to drowsiness, it was her practice to seek out that small piece of rectangular comfort. And while our dear pooch had ceased to live and breathe and move, the pillow remained in its same old place. (And though a decade has come and gone since she “gave up the ghost,” I have maintained the practice of lying a pillow at the foot of my bed).

But much like the previous episode, an invisible weight lay against my right foot. Invisible, yet tangible. And I felt that same sense of comfort. But I was afraid. Afraid to move. I wanted whatever grace I had been momentarily given to linger.

But as I recall, when I finally dared shift my position, the magic ended, and the weighty sensation with it.

And then, 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. 

Pt. 5

Over the years, I have often thought of my dearly departed pooch, and the supernatural grace with which I was gifted; after she resigned her mortal body to the elements. As a result, I have often referred to her as “my posthumous pooch.”

And though I was gifted to both sense and see my little Buddy within days of her passing, I had little or no reason to believe she would ever return.

As King David once said of his dearly departed son,

“He cannot come to me. I must go to him.”

However…

Nearly a decade and a half after my Buddy’s ethereal trip across the Rainbow Bridge, she (or God, Himself) apparently made the decision to expend a bit more grace upon me.

I was lying in my easy chair on a recent Sunday afternoon, and doing my best to take in a nap when…

I heard something in our back room…

Like a dog shaking water off her back after a summer swim.

And I knew. I just knew.

My dear little Buddy had returned; if only for a moment. And yet, for the brevity of her appearance, I was both excited and encouraged by her unexpected visit.

And I cannot help but remember when she came to us a second time, and in so doing her little Bro succumbed to an accident. She trembled violently then.

And I can’t help but recall the premonition she evidently experienced just prior to her demise; when she shivered, as if she’d been dipped in cold water.

However, based on the strange and wonderful opportunities I have been afforded over the years, I am convinced that Buddy has relinquished any and all of her early grief, and latter anxiety, and has acclimated well to her heavenly environment.

And I know the little siblings are together again, and I am sure they are making up for the years which they were so unexpectedly denied this side of heaven.

Afterward

There is a wonderful verse in Psalm 36:6.

“You, Lord, preserve both men and animals, alike.”

I can’t account for why I was blessed to realize such momentary manifestations of my precious pooch. 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.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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