Pets are the best kind of family as they offer us unconditional
love and acceptance. The therapeutic benefits of pets and their
seeming sixth sense in times of trouble are well documented. Some hospitals, nursing
homes and hospices offer pet visits because of their engaging encounters. People are simply drawn to these furry creatures who seem to love us, no matter what.The following are my remembrances of two very
different dogs that were a part of my family's experience.
Charlie’s Last Day
I grew up in a family of nine, my parents, six kids, and Charlie,
a benevolent Old English Sheep dog. I would like to tell you about Charlie’s final
day on earth. Charlie was 13 when he died at my parent’s home in Vermont.
Earlier that day he wandered off across the road, which was quite unusual for
him. Our neighbor, Mrs. Brooks, found Charlie behind the barn with a dazed
look, confused and lost. Miraculously she found the strength and fortitude to
pick Charlie up and carried him all the way back to our house. This was no
easy feat since he was a big dog who weighed about 80 pounds. We will be forever grateful
to Mrs. Brooks for her incredibly kind and heroic gesture.
That evening mom cooked a steak dinner for Charlie. Boy, he really enjoyed that steak. She
stayed up with Charlie until about midnight
and gently petted him while her voice soothed him with her sweetest love.
She confided in him, letting him know what a wonderful dog he was, the best any family
could hope for, and she told him that she loved him. Charlie died that night. I
have always adored my mom for being there for Charlie in that way. Our pets become our cherished family members and we grieve for them when they
die.
The Devil Dog
Some years later, Shoo Shoo, a miniature toy poodle, came
into my parent’s lives and stole their hearts. This little fur ball with a
black gumdrop nose and cute persona proved deceptive. For Shoo Shoo had a nasty habit
of biting people, quite unexpectedly and without provocation. My parents loved
this dog, yet the rest of our clan was quite uneasy around him because he might strike at any time and when you least expected. We worried that he might bite one of our children but in my parents
eyes this dog could do no wrong. They staunchly defended him when any
objections arose. Once Shoo Shoo attacked my mom, giving her a bad bite on her hand,
still her loyalty was unshaken. His temperament grew worse with age and we
cautiously avoided him. If he jumped up on the couch and sat next to one of us,
our movements froze in a statue pose. Our family, with the exception of my
parents, came to know him as the infamous “devil dog.”
In December of 1995, my father was dying of cancer. I came
home to be with him during his last few weeks of life. Intuitively, Shoo Shoo
seemed to understand the gravity of the situation and he faithfully stayed by
my father’s side. When we needed to assist my dad, there was Shoo Shoo curled
up in his hospital bed. I was hesitant to move Shoo Shoo but I really had no
other choice but to tell him he had to move and gently pick him up. It was then
I began to notice an extraordinary transformation, the devil dog had become
an angel. A radical change took place in him. He was the embodiment
of Love as he kept a watchful vigil. All mistrust and meanness was gone. I
could pick him up, and hold like a baby, babble sweet talk, and even kiss him. This
aura of Love continued throughout the remaining days of my dad’s life and beyond.
However, a few months later, I returned home to Vermont
to visit mom. Unfortunately, Shoo Shoo’s angelic glow was gone and his dark temperament
remained with him throughout his old age. I guess in this case it was my parents that offered unconditional love.
As caregivers, we recognize that all humans need love, the warmth of a caring touch, acceptance and meaningful relationships. Pets provide loyal companionship that has undeniably positive effects on a person's well-being. I am curious to know, how have pets influenced the quality of your life and/or those around you?
“My
goal is to be as good a person as my dog thinks I am.” ~Harvey Mackay
~Liz Sorensen Wessel
Journal of Sacred Work 
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