Two years ago our 14 year old cousin Bailey was with her Mom as they prepared for her human sister’s (our grandbaby’s) birthday. She was right behind her Mom, walking down the hall when she stopped, gave out a little yelp, looked at her Mom, and was gone, leaping towards the Bridge without a second’s notice.
Years before that, my sister Copper, who was only four years old, and is pictured in this week's Wordless Wednesday entry, was put in her crate one April morning while my Mom went to run a few errands. When she came back Copper’s body was still in her crate, but her soul had gone to the Bridge, and no one knew why.
Now that I am on the eternal side of the Bridge we often debate what is the easiest way for our humans to deal with our transition to from the mortal side to the eternal side of the river. Some of us think that going quickly, as Copper and Bailey did is better because their parents did not have to fret over their long illness and it did not cost them a great deal of money. Others believe a lingering illness is better because it gives our parents time to adjust to the idea of us being gone before we go. The truth is none of us have the luxury of deciding how we are going to arrive on the eternal side.
This weekend I was summoned to the top of the stairs where all new Bridge angels who have passed from mortality to eternity inexplicably have to climb to be sworn in by me. I was surprised to see my good friend from Alabama, Anna Nicole’s sister, Ms. Queenie. After performing the swearing in ceremonies I told her I had not known that she was sick and she said that she hadn’t been feeling great, but was surprised when the angels came for her and told her she needed to cross over. She was very upset that she did not get to say goodbye to her friends and family.
When I made my trip it was neither fast nor slow. On a Monday I had a little cough, and on the next Sunday I was gone. But last week when Mommy was putting the comforter back on the bed she saw these tiny, rusty, little marks on the comforter from my licking. She called them my love stains, and we both got a chuckle about that in her dreams, but my Mom realized that when I was licking the comforter at night I was leaving tiny little blood spots behind that she had not noticed. Mommy didn’t feel bad though, she said if she had found out I had lung cancer earlier we would have lost time together, and nothing is more precious than time.
On Thursday night Queenie was sleeping in bed with her parents when she got down and went to her crate, which was not strange, because she often got down when she was hot. That morning her Mom got up to make breakfast and thought Queenie was asleep. But she checked on her she, and Queenie’s Dad, were horrified to learn their sweet girl was gone.
I have recently learned an important difference in humans and dogs. Humans always ask “why.” Why did this have to happen? Why was she taken from us? Why didn’t we see it? Us dogs always ask “where?” Where is supper? Where is my bone? Where is our Mom?
Our questions of where are usually answered, unfortunately, the human questions of why, especially when it comes to our passing over, are never answered, and never totally fade away.
So let’s say a prayer for Queenie’s Mom Cindy, her Dad, and her pack, who are traumatized by the question why. Let’s pray they heal and the questions fades.
And may they rest better knowing that Queenie has a wonderful spot here, and she watches over her family every day.