You think dogs will not be in heaven? I tell you, they will be there long before any of us. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson
When my husband and I had been married for about 2 years we got a dog. He was a Pointer mix that we rescued, a large white dog with some brown spots. We named him Winston. He was a wild puppy and we decided he needed a friend to play with after about 6 months.
So we adopted Lucy, a Border Collie mix, from the local pound. She had been dropped off at a very young age, adopted and then returned because she was "not good with children". At the time we didn't have any kids, and found it hard to believe that any puppy could be labeled in such a way, she just needed training. It took her a while to adjust, to believe that this was her home, but when she finally warmed up to us – we were hers, and she protected us and loved us more than anything.
Winston and Lucy were the best of friends. When we welcomed the children they loved them just as much as we did. We were family.
Winston was always prone to "exploring". He was super fast to push open the storm door, and he could climb our 6 foot wooden fence in the back yard. He was chipped so lucky he found his way home, but we knew it was a matter of time before he got himself into a bad situation. And 6 years after we got him (about 6 years ago) he just didn't come back. We looked and looked but never found out what happened to him.
About 3 days later I had a dream where I woke to find him on the floor, looking at me with sad eyes. He had that guilty look, the look he would get when he knew he ad done wrong. "Winston!" I exclaimed. Patting the bed I said, "come here boy, I have missed you so much!" He jumped easily on to the bed, and curled himself into a little ball (how he usually slept). I pet him sweetly, but couldn't get him to let go of the sad eyes that said – I'm sorry, I'm sorry. At that point I realized that he was visiting me only in a dream, he could never come home, something had happened and we would never see him again. After the dream we still looked for him, but some how we knew.
Lucy was distraught. Depressed for months after Winston was gone. She inherited his nervous habits, fear of storms and fireworks. But she was still our sweet girl, forever loving and tolerant of our small children, who were not always as gentle as they should be. She loved them and protected them always.
About 4 years after Winston left us we adopted another dog, Charlie, so that Lucy would not be lonely. He was 11 when we adopted him, an old dog at the pound doesn't last long and it tugged on my heart. Lucy was 9 at the time, so an old dog would be perfect, we thought; Lucy did not agree. It took her about a year and a half to whip him into shape, worthy to be in her family and love on her people.
On August the 2nd, 6 years to the day after losing Winston, we noticed that Lucy was breathing very shallowly. The next morning when she walked about 20 feet to go outside and then came back, she was panting; completely out of breath. After about 4 hours at the vet (they actually stayed late on a Saturday to try to figure out what was going on) they determined she had Lung Cancer. The doctor gave us medicine to make her comfortable, but told us it would only buy us time, not a cure. They guessed 3 months, then 1 month, but after only 11 days she was struggling for breath again.
The kids were able to say their goodbyes and then my husband and I slept with her on the living room floor because she couldn't make it up the stairs. I repeatedly pet her ear, the softest part of her, just like velvet, to help her and to help myself, because I knew that in the morning I had to watch her die. She was in pain and I couldn't let her be in anymore pain.
My husband and I were able to take her together, by the time we got to the vet she was not even able to walk from weakness. Sam carried her in and we sat with her, loving her to the end. We sat in the room alone with her for what seemed like a very long time, unsure when the doctor would be coming in. She didn't have the strength left to stand, but lying down made it even harder for her to breath, so my husband and I supported her in a sitting position.
When the doctor finally came in, she barked at them, surprising us with a burst of energy; she wanted to protect us from the strangers. After they began it was very quick. They gave her a sedative to relax her before the final shot into her IV. Just as I had explained to my kids the night before, I told her, "you have done everything you were here to do, you can rest now baby, we will always love you."
We have missed her presents, but know it was the only way. Charlie has been some comfort, but he has been gloomy too; we are all getting better together. I have avoided talking about it, trying to push on.
Today I was prompted to write when I wasn't expecting it…
As I'm lying in bed with my husband taking a nap, he asks me again if I'm going to get up. I say "fine" and lean up stretching my arms out, as I always do in the dark, so I didn't step on the dogs. When I am about to stand up my hands connect with fur, "I almost stepped on you sweetie," I say to Lucy, then I gasp. I continue to run my hands up and down her, one hand can feel the soft fur of her face, like velvet. My right hand feels the ruff thick fur on her back, but I don't dare open my eyes, in fact I squeeze them shut tighter.
"What is it?" My husband says behind me, he must see me with my arm out stretched into nothing, but I can feel her all of her, her weight leaning on my legs.
I reach the hand on her head around to her throat, and my fingers sink into the thick fur there. And then it changes and I feel shorter more coarse fur on both my hands, and a firm taller build. "It's Lucy" I tell Sam, "or Winston I can't be sure. They're here!"
"Oh honey it can't be," he tells me and I know, I know this, know they are gone, but I feel them feel them like they are here. I chance to open my eyes and I feel the fur leave me, but I see a flash of fluffy black and white which makes me gasp again and my eyes shoot wide open.
I'm alone in bed, a dream it was just a dream, but the feelings were so real, I can't shake the idea that it was a visit, a visit from my sweet puppies to tell me they are okay, that they are together. And maybe they were here with me again finding me in the place where the silly logic of the real world couldn't keep them out, in dreams. They can still live in that fuzzy place between dreaming and waking. Perhaps they are always with me keeping me safe right where they always were, right under my feet, guarding the end of the bed as I sleep. Real or not real? I don't know, and I don't care to find out. I felt it on my hands, but mostly in my heart.
Nice to get it all on paper and I hope my sharing helps someone else who finds themselves in my place.