HELLO AGAIN

Three weeks have passed since our little Queenie left us.

Her gravesite is next to four similar gravesites, and is located under a scrub oak tree in my backyard. As you can imagine, the emotional wounds are still raw. They say a pet is so much like family. I think it is during the hours and days and weeks following a pet’s passing that the truth of this adage rings the truest.

Think of me what you will. Believe what I am about to share with you, as you choose. But I have had some mighty ‘strange and wonderful’ experiences related to my dearly departed little Buddy over the years.

Shortly after Buddy crossed the Rainbow Bridge, I was lying in bed attempting to sleep when I sensed a weight against my right shoulder, and the sensation (but not the sound) of respiration. Breath in. Breath out. Again, and again.

Later that same evening, as I lay in bed, I felt something snuggle up against my feet. Buddy had always slept on a pillow which I kept at the foot of my bed. (Fifteen years later that pillow remains in its same old place). A week or two after Buddy departed this mortal strand, I was walking in my neighborhood in the early evening, and thinking about my little friend. Suddenly, what looked like a small white dog crossed my pathway, and disappeared into a neighbor’s yard. And then, in the past few months, I was seated at a table at a residential ministry where I have done counseling for a couple of years, when I felt a tiny set of paws against my leg. I could not help but well up with tears.

Pt. 2

I have made a habit of taking my little pooches for a ride on their last day of life on this planet. As we have traveled down the highways and byways, I have spoken to them, and said whatever it was I felt like saying, words such as,

“We will be together again in just a few years.” (and) “You tell your little brothers and sisters that I’m coming.” (and) “I want you to be good to the doctor when we go in there today.” (and) “All your pain and suffering are going to end soon.” (and) “You are about to take a wonderful journey.” (and) “You will fall asleep here, and wake up in the arms of Jesus.”

And given my series of ‘visitations’ after my little Buddy crossed the Rainbow Bridge, on Queenie’s last day here I added,

“If you decide to visit me after, well, you know, I need you to help me know that it’s you, and not your little sister.”

And then, and then, we were pulling back into my driveway. An hour later the deed was done, and Queenie was safe in the arms of Jesus.

I can’t account for why I have been provided the opportunity to experience these little canine miracles, (nor any number of other kinds of miracles during the course of my seven decades on this planet), but I am inestimably grateful for the privilege and pleasure they have afforded me.

But three days after my little Queenie crossed the Rainbow Bridge, I was seated at the same keyboard on which I am currently typing out these words when I experienced the scent of a familiar little creature. Queenie was back, if only for a few moments. And then, just a few days ago, as I was lying on my sofa, and my left hand was dangling off the arm, ‘something’ nuzzled me, something very much like the snout of a dog, as if my precious pooch was attempting to assure me that she was happy, and healthy and safe, and that she wasn’t all that far away.

Afterward

Now, it’s really “neither here nor there” to me what you choose to believe. I can only share my experiences, and promise you that if the same things happened to you, all your doubts would disappear like fog in the morning.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending