The anniversary of Rose’s death is coming up, and it is December 9 and I have to confess that I only know that because a number of people have e-mailed me and posted messages on my social media reminding me of the date. I was surprised that other people kept a record of this anniversary and I did not. I do not commemorate or mark the anniversaries of the death of my dogs, only the days of their lives and the wonderful memories they provided, and the many doors they opened for me and inside of me. Rose was not only my dog and many people loved and respected her, and I respect their need to think of and process her death in the way that works for them. Grieving is always, always, individual. Everyone does it their own way.  On this subject regarding dogs, my beliefs have evolved radically in the past five or six years.

Some people are upset with the way I grieve and think it speaks to a coldness or emptiness inside of me. But Rose’s death has me thinking about it. When Orson died I consulted with a shamonic healer, Lesley Nase of Vermont, and she went on a retrieval journey with me and described a beautiful place by a sylvan river, the spirits of animals marked by many blue lights. My work with Lesley began a long process of change in me regarding the life and death of animals, and the process of loss and grief. This has been further developed in my hospice work. The animals came to the river to speak if they wished, not if they didn’t, and Orson came to speak with me. He was not all that much interested in me any more, he had moved on.  Me too.

I don’t know about the spirits of people, I haven’t really studied it or thought about it. But I have studied and thought about the death of my animals – Rose, Orson, Rocky. There are many people who have left my site and my work because of these beliefs, and it is important to share them, as they have deepened in me. I do not grieve for Rose because I do not believe she is gone. I believe she has moved on, gone to the place of blue lights, the spirit world where animals rest and gather themselves before putting up with us and living with us. I believe she will enter the life of another human when she chooses, and when she has done her work, she will depart. I have experienced this again and again. Orson brought me to the farm, and left. Rose helped me to live there when her with me is finished. Izzy brought me to hospice work and healing and healed me and moved on. Rocky brought us to this new home when we needed one. They leave when they are ready. They find a way. They bite somebody, run off, get sick.

This does not seem a callous rationale to me – I have had to make the decision to put these animals down and some people believe that makes me a serial killer –  but to me it is an awakening, an opening of the heart and the spirit to the true nature of the world, not about my own selfish interests or emotions.

We like to think these decisions are ours, that they are just helpless and piteous creatures in need of our rescue and ministrations,  but I think it is the other way around. We are the helpless and piteous creatures, they are strong and accepting and clear about their lives. They come and open doors for us, become our magical helpers, power animals and guides.

I do not mark the anniversary of Rose’s death because I do not see her as dead in the way some people grieve for animals or humans.  Her life was in no way heartbreaking, her loss a transition, not a tragedy. She has done her work and is doing it again somewhere I hope, and here, in my life, is Red, come for a purpose that is not yet clear but is beginning to emerge. He is a spirit dog, a healer and he can help the lonely and the sick. I think that is why he has come, but he will let me know in  his own way and soon enough.

On the anniversary of Rose’s death, my wish for her is as always: that she run in golden fields without boundaries, meadows stretching to eternal horizons, sheep stretching to the end of the world. There is nothing for me to feel sad about and I will always mark the many anniversaries of her life, not her death.