Monday, December 29. “Good morning,. Shiva. How are you?” He tries but can’t get up so I sit down on his bed. Not a good day.
Time for the park but he doesn’t even try the ramp into the truck for the park walk, and looks confused and guilty for letting me down. Something’s seriously wrong with his hind-quarters. Is he now just dragging himself through life to please me? I can’t have that. Back into the house, he flops down and can’t get up again. “It’s time to join Louie,” my guides tell me. Don’t want to believe but know I must. I’ve been expecting this since Louie left, otherwise why did he leave in such a hurry? He drags himself into the office as I work on the computer. Needs to be near me.
I make the phone call to the vet. “Sorry we can’t see anyone until Friday unless it’s an emergency.” I tell them who I am; they all know me and Louie’s story. “Just give a moment. … The doctor will see at four.” Same time as Louie, I note. Is four o’clock execution time around here? Two hours away. Shiva sleeps while I find busy work on the computer. Feel strangely at peace, unlike with Louie.
Time to leave. Shiva’s back legs don’t work. Takes a long time to get him in the truck. Me lifting a 100 pound dog. How, I don’t know. So, another one way trip, this time via the park he loves so much. A cop looks at me oddly. What’s he doing in the park at three in the afternoon, he’s wondering. I manage a weak smile. Time to leave for the vet.
Again, they’d cleared the place … we were the only ones there. Do they do this every time? Everyone knows the story of Louie and smiles sympathetically. I bring Shiva’s favorite blanket and lay it down in the examination room floor … too hard for old bones to die on. Shiva lies down, me beside him on the blanket. “How can I help?” the vet asks. I marvel at her beauty and bottomless eyes. “Shiva lost his best friend last week. He wants to go be with him and has given up the fight. Do you believe animals have souls?”
“Yes I do,” she says. Love her for that. Oddly she’s wearing a black coat, not white … special for occasions like this? She makes light of it, but I know she’s hurting almost as much as I am. Angel with a stethoscope.
Different vet than last time. First one off on a family emergency. Her father with the cancer, perhaps? Maybe he’s crossing over too.
She begins to explain the procedure. I stop her, “I went through this six days ago.” She smiles, “Sorry. Are you ready?” I nod and she begins the long, slow injection. Shiva is calm, as if he knows … of course he does. He licks my face one last time. Our love surges. After 30 seconds, his eyes flutter and his head falls into my arms. I feel his body relax and him leave. After a minute, his heart stops. “His body was hanging on,” she says. “I’ll leave you two together.” How incredibly understanding. Do they teach this stuff in vet school?
I feel Louie in the room with us, here to greet Shiva. Two etheric tails wagging … job well done. Tears flow for a minute. Time to leave. My part is played … good lives, well lived. Mine continues, who knows where, but they know I have to be moving on. Glad to say goodbye to 2008, and my country ballad life. Lost my mother, my mate left, my dogs died. What’s in store for 2009? “Free Bird,” I hope.
Get home, have a beer. Shiva loves beer and I normally give him a saucer of beer for himself. No more normal. After 15 years, how do I redefine myself as someone who has no dogs in his life? Guess I’ll figure it out. That’s what New Years are for. Sense of profound peace descends. They are overjoyed to be Home together on the soul plane and are sharing with me their joy at being in young virile doggy bodies. “Thanks guys,” I say as I bask in their warm glow. Such love we all share.
That evening, watch a Lifetime channel movie about a woman having a baby. Old life leaves, new life begins. Every ending is a new beginning. What’s their new beginning? And mine, for that matter?
Radio, teaching, writing, blogging. You’re reading it. Being human is both the simplest of processes, and at the same time, the most profound. We really are souls having human experiences.
I’m listening to New Age music and getting sad. “Enough of that,” Shiva says. “Listen to some rock and roll.” He knows that always changes my mood. He and I love it; Louie hated it and always went off to hide when we played it.
Telepathically, they show me why Louie left when he did, and the ingeniousness of their strategy. Janee and I separated in the summer, and Shiva stayed around as my comforter, with Louie serving as Shiva's comforter. Once they saw that my healing had happened around the end of November, they kicked their strategy into high gear. Shiva’s body would begin to shut down in readiness to leave, while Louie hurried to get in ahead of Shiva so he wasn’t left behind. Hence the fast-acting cancer that gave us no opportunity to treat it. And they decided to stagger their departures by a few days so as not to overwhelm me with two sick dogs crossing over simultaneously. What amazing wisdom animals have. Yes, I’ve lost two incredible dogs in the last six days, but I’ve gained two incredible new spirit guides, for a win/win/win situation. Ah, the perfection of the plan.
Tuesday morning, December 30, 5:30. I go into the living room, where I’m usually greeting by two dogs. There’s no “usual” anymore, but it doesn’t feel empty. The energy is strangely serene, full of big spirits beaming love to me. First day of the rest of my life. What will that look like? I open my new 2009 Black Labrador calendar to January, with an entry for every day. Busy, I think.
***
That’s the story so far. I have a phone session on Friday with probably the best psychic in the Las gas valley and a good friend, so more to come in the next post. Meanwhile, I promised to tell you the story of how Shiva came into my life.
Back in 1996, Joy and I lived in a fourth-floor apartment in Denver, that had a strict “no dogs” policy. One March morning, Joy had a dream of a dog sitting on a shiny floor with huge floor-to-ceiling windows. I knelt down, put my arms around him and we took him home. “That would be Shiva,” I said, and we wondered where that came from. How we could bring a dog home was puzzling. And who’s Shiva, I wondered.
A couple of weeks later, my publisher in California called out of the blue and asked, “How would you like to move to California to become my editor-in-chief?”
Joy said, “We ain’t left yet?” She knew her mother who she’d been separated from at birth lived somewhere in California. We moved west on Labor Day weekend, and took up residence on a 100-acre horse ranch. Day one saw us in the pet store for cat food, and the local dog pound had several dogs for adoption. One dog in particular caught our eye. A three-year-old Black Labrador was sitting up on the shiny floor of the pet store lobby, with the store’s full glass doors behind him. “Just like my dream,” Joy exclaimed. “Then this must be Shiva,” I added. Obviously he went home with us, and thoroughly enjoyed running the horse ranch. At the soul level, he knew of our upcoming contract and infiltrated Joy’s dream of months earlier, so that we would pay attention at the pet store and pick up the cue. Smart guy. (In those days, he thought nothing of a five-mile run, and yesterday, five steps was too much. But I know he's now that young dog again, and that warms my heart.)
Monday morning, Joy and I went to work at the publisher’s office and within an hour, we got a frantic call from the ranch. “Shiva is wrecking everything. You’d better come home immediately.” Separation anxiety, we figured. I checked with the boss … he’d love Shiva as an “office dog.” So from that day, Shiva was the office morale officer, in charge of face-licking, proving the old saying: “If you want to learn about love, get a dog.”
As a footnote, I began a search for Joy’s mother and soon got a call from The Liza Show. “We’d like to interview Joy on the show.” We flew to LA for the taping before a live studio audience. You’ve guessed it … in the middle of Joy telling her story, out walked her long-lost mother. Very spiritual woman, too. A few months later, I bought the house next door to her mother … they had 40 years catching up to do.
Happy ending. Life
really is like a box of chocolates.
Tony,
Learning of Shiva's death so close to Louie's, is nothing short of sad to me. I have to tell you though, that as I write this, Shiva's spirit gives me the impression of lightness, happiness, and dancing! I don't remember Shiva dancing when I stayed with you for awhile there in Nevada, but, nonetheless, Shiva's energy is that of dancing! I hope this makes sense to you and that what I am relaying brings you comfort and joy.
I remember one night in particular while staying with you; I was closing my bedroom door for the night when as I was doing so, I felt the door being pushed open, resisting being closed. When I opened the door to see what was pushing it open as I was trying to shut it, I saw Shiva's black nose against the door forcing it open! I let Shiva in and he promptly jumped onto the bottom of the bed and got himself settled down for the night! I didn't know him that well as I had just arrived at your home earlier that same evening, but, I was not about to tell this huge dog that he could not stay so, I got into bed and hoped that all would be okay. After laying on the bottom of the bed for awhile, Shiva crawled his way up to the head of the bed where I was and placed his entire front paw across my chest! I didn't know if I should pet him or scream! I decided to pet him and after a few pets, he jumped off the bed and left the room. It seemed to me at the time that Shiva had come into the room to let me know that he was happy to meet me and that he wanted me to know that he extended his friendship to me.
I am so glad to have had Shiva's friendship! What a marvelous being he was and still is.
I treasure having met Shiva and Louie. I am honored for having known both of them.
May you know only joy when you think upon your two devoted and loving and still very present angels; Shiva and Louie,
Christine Toomey
Posted by: Christine Toomey | June 18, 2009 at 12:07 AM