Lesson #4: Living And Dying From My Canine Brothers

After Doug抯 beloved dog, Beezer, was diagnosed with kidney disease, the author wrote a memoir about the dying stages and invites you to share his pain and discoveries during that difficult period between diagnosis and the last goodbye. This series of articles represent letters Doug wrote to his beloved Beezer, during and after Beezer抯 illness and subsequent death.

Dear Beez,

I am recalling one of the special moments we had together during your illness. Your breakfast was over and the mess in the kitchen was cleaned up. It was a quiet Sunday morning. Your brother was over by the door in his pet bed sleeping soundly. Sun streamed in from the skylight. I could hear the water flowing from the little decorative stream out front. You were sitting in your bed, staring intently at me in a way that only you and I understood.

I thought about the day before. My lifelong friend John had spirited me out of the house and taken me to see an eye-opening movie called What the Bleep Do I Know?! It was about a new way to look at reality, quantum physics really, and it got me thinking. Up till now, your illness had created one specific reality in my mind. This reality involved death and fear. Was it possible to attach a different meaning and significance to your illness, which would make me feel better? I looked deep into your eyes and asked you what you thought.

Your response came directly into my soul. I believe you were saying not to be afraid. It sounded like a mantra: Living in fear is to live in the future. Fear is always an emotional response to a conditional future event. It may or may not happen, and if it does happen, it will be sometime down the road. So to live in fear is to live in the future.

Wow!

I kept staring into your eyes, asking for more. You also said: Living with guilt is to live in the past. The guilt was water under the bridge and I should just let it go. I thought about that for a minute. When you were diagnosed with the kidney problem, I failed to take any action. You quickly corrected me. I had taken action. I took you and Boomer to the vet. My decision had come from a place of caring, you reminded me. The fact that I had additional information later on didn抰 affect the past. I had made the best decision possible with information available at that time. You assured me there was nothing to feel guilty about.

揑s there anything more??I asked. I heard: To live in fear or guilt means missing out on the gift of today. Over and over my mind heard the phrase: Just trust me and I抣l show you.

I felt a great weight begin to lift. I moved forward to embrace you. Just then, you lifted a front paw in an offer to shake hands. 揙f course,?I responded.

Then it hit me. I was witnessing you teaching me about living and dying. Lessons I抎 been unable to learn on my own. Circumstances I抎 been unable to deal with singularly. What if it had always been meant to happen this way? What if you had been sent to earth to teach me these lessons, as the animal communicators had suggested.

But what had I taught you? To shake hands. The realization traveled through me like electricity. I turned red and covered my face with my hands. Good God, I抎 assumed all along that, as a human, I was the superior being. What if even that wasn抰 the case? Teaching you to shake hands wasn抰 much of a contribution to the collective experience, especially given the curriculum that you were offering.

Horrified, I began to apologize profusely to you. I leaned on your shoulder, overwhelmed. You had a bit of a 揼otcha?look on your face. Stick with me, young man, you said, and I抣l teach you much.

Next week Lesson #5: Sharing Our Birthday