THE SACRED PILLOW

 4465

Pt. 1

Lately, Max, one of our precious pooches, when he takes a notion, or retires for the night, lies down on a pillow at the end of my bed. 

And, without fail, when I see the muscular, little guy lying peacefully on that rectangular bit of comfort, I say,

"You're lying on the Sacred Pillow again."

And in the past few days, our yellow Maine Coon cat has begun to emulate Max's behavior. There are times when I walk into my bedroom, and Milo is lying at the end of the bed, and his head is resting against the Sacred Pillow. 

And, as with Max, I look at Milo, and say,

"You're lying on the Sacred Pillow!"

During the course of the past 70 years, eight precious pooches have lived in my home; five which have now crossed the Rainbow Bridge. Princess, our black & white cocker spaniel, Buddy and Bobby, brother and sister white and tan shih tzu's, Lucy, a Corgi mix, and Queenie, another white shih tzu.

 And then there are three which live in my home 'til this very day; (one which I have previously alluded). 

Max, our wire terrier-shih tzu mix, Lily, his sister, and Toby, our black and white papillon. 

Pt. 2

Each and every one of them loved, and yet, all very different; those I remember with fondness and tears, and the aging three which aren't long from joining their canine friends on the other side of that proverbial Rainbow Bridge.

And yet, there was one, the second in that seven decade long litter of eight which fulfilled her little mission on this side of heaven in a singular manner.

Buddy

Well, Buddy was nothing less than special. 

She, (yes, Buddy was a she), and her brother, Bobby wandered up in our front yard one day. And before yours truly was prepared to bring the precious critters into our home, I (shamefully now, I admit), kept them in our garage.

One night Buddy began barking; (which was not like her). The next day I discovered greasy footprints on the driveway; near the garage door.

Then, there was the day that our daughter was staying with us; having separated from her husband. "Jenny" was lying in bed that day, and Buddy lay next to her. 

I often took the precious pooch with me when I drove to the post office, and as was my practice, I invited Buddy to go. 

The three words never escaped her notice.

"Buddy, wanna go?"

And more often, than not, she bounded towards the kitchen door leading to the garage. However, on that memorable day she glanced up at me, and snuggled closer to Jenny.

However, the memorable day among memorable days involved my wife. Jean was in her bedroom lying on the bed, and Buddy lay next to her. She said she felt like a thousand pound weight was pressing her into the mattress.

Buddy had been following her around the house for several days.

Of course, I insisted that she visit her doctor, and submit to medical tests. As a result,... she was diagnosed with cancer.

Pt. 3

Did I say Buddy fulfilled her mission? She fulfilled her mission here better, I think, than most people ever do.

Buddy slept at the end of my bed. She had her own little pillow. And each night, she piled on top of it, and peacefully slept the night away.

Until...

She crossed the Rainbow Bridge of her own accord. 

Buddy had experienced a horrible night, (I will not attempt to describe it to you), and she was close to leaving us at morning light. Picking her up, I set her in her doggie bed in the living room. When I checked on her just minutes later... she had found her way across the Rainbow Bridge.

If any creature which ever drew breath, man or beast, ever had the wherewithal, or right to linger here, I'm convinced Buddy was afforded that privilege.

For you see, one night after I retired to my bedroom, not long after she left us

... I sensed a weight against my shoulder. And then, what seemed to be the sensation of respiration. And, shortly thereafter, something curled up on that old pillow at the foot of my bed, and lay against my feet.

Post-script

Just tonight, I pulled open my desk drawer, and picked up a small aluminum tin, such as mints come in, opened it, and retrieved a lock of white fur which I had clipped from her side; just after she took her final breath. (Yes, I am convinced I will see her again).

And though almost two decades have come and gone since Buddy went on to her rightful reward, the little pillow rests in that same old place, and will remain there as long as I live, and move on this good earth.

Somehow, I am comforted by that ever present reminder. Somehow, it does me good to see Max and Milo curl up on, or near it.

The Sacred Pillow

by Bill McDonald, PhD