Tears on earth, stars in heaven

The last few weeks have been tough, especially for friends who have said goodbye to the dogs they loved and watched them depart for Rainbow Bridge.

Maria's two, Mari and Dale's Buddy, and yesterday, one of my students, a puppy named Shadow.

Shadow was a 6 month old rottie pup who suddenly showed signs of neurological disorders and an enlarged heart. He had been to class last Friday. Very smart, loved coming to class, and his mom and dad worked with him a lot to help him learn. They adored him. He was beautiful and loving.

Yesterday they came early to class to talk with me. When I asked where Shadow was they simply said, "He's gone," and broke down as they told me how quickly he deteriorated. They had hoped he would be well enough to come to class, at least to get a photo of him wearing a graduation hat. But early Friday morning he was in such bad shape that they decided he was suffering and that it was time to say goodbye.

They brought me two of his toys to put in the classroom toybox to share with the other dogs. Today I watched as the first dog in class found one of them and picked it up to play with and show his dad. Ironically, it was a black lab named Shadow.

It's so tragic that a beautiful puppy like Shadow had to leave us so soon. I only knew him for a few weeks, but he left his pawprints on my heart.

I trust that my Noir has welcomed him to Rainbow Bridge and is running and playing with him until the day in the distand future when his mom and dad come to walk him over the bridge.

Understanding Death

I am still in pain over the loss of my dog, Noir. I miss her every day, and everyday I shed a few tears, wishing I could just once more hold her, bury my nose in the scruff of her neck, give her a kiss, tell her I love her.

Last night a friend sent me the following. It still hurts, but it helps to remember that although the day came when I said, "There she goes," the day will also arrive when Noir will say, "Here she comes."

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UNDERSTANDING DEATH
By Henry Van Dyke

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!"

"Gone where?"

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says, "There, she is gone!" there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: "Here she comes!"

And that is dying.