When I came to live with my parents, I had the most wonderful big sister named Blake. She was a little Shih Tzu, but she was a giant to me. Blake taught me so much about my parents and how to be a good dog. I don't know if I would have reached the heights I have without Blake blazing a trail to me.
I remember that terrible morning when Blake had her first seizure. It was like something had possessed her. One minute I was snuggled up with my trusted big sis; the next, her body was thrashing, and she didn't know who I was. Even before I knew a seizure was a symptom of the disease that would send her to the Bridge, I hated it.
It took a long time for my parents to determine what caused her seizures. When they finally did, remember the sad word inoperable was used. A short time after that, Blake went to the Bridge, and I was thrust into the role of the lead dog.
This year my sweet friend from the Blogger world, Tweedles, an adorable 13-year-old pug, began to have seizures. She was rushed to the vet where her parents learned that Tweedles’ liver numbers were high and prognosis poor. She was given medication, and prayers by the thousands began to or into the Bridge for her. We had to assign a dozen angels to answer them.
The medication helped Tweedles, but it could not keep the seizure monster at bay.
Tweedles had countless fans who read her blog. Each post was accompanied by a picture of cute Tweedles openly embracing life. Weary humans counted on Tweedle's postings for a daily smile. Her health became paramount to them.
Tweedles’ health did not improve; it just held steady, which was the best her parents could hope for. Each seizure took a terrible toll on our friend.
As autumn spread over the land, Tweedles’ heartbeats began to dwindle. Her parents tried to enjoy their last fleeting days with their love bug, and not worry or be sad, but that was impossible. Worry and sadness always will work its way in.
Finally, Tweedles’ last heartbeat sounded, and her parents let their little girl go. Tweedles hated leaving her loving parents. She solemnly crossed the Bridge and climbed the long stairway to Hobo’s Landing, where she would be sworn in. But she could not stop the patented Tweedle smile from flashing across her face. She had left the seizure monster, who had haunted her every moment and taken over her life, behind The relief filled her with joy. It was over.
She ran up the steps without pain or exhaustion for the first time in years. Tears came to Tweedles’ eyes when she saw all the friends who had preceded her to the Bridge gather around and cover her with 1,000 hugs and kisses.
I gave Tweedles the angel oath; then, we held a huge welcoming banquet for her. After that, she immediately began her angel training. She will be visiting her parents soon. It is a frustrating time to be an angel. In the winter, we can’t use butterfly bodies to see our loved ones. But I know she will visit her parents in their dreams, or as a ghost, and maybe even an old crow or pigeon if the mood strikes. Her parents need to remember to treat every winged creature with care; it could be their best her coming to check upon them.
It won’t be enough for her parents. It never is. But if they believe that she is with them with all their might, they might get a fleeting glimpse of her just out of the corner of their eye.
If they could see her happy and healthy, it would aid them as they travel the dark road of grief.
We angels have all lead our parents out of the grief's dark road. I know Tweedles will too. Her parents need to listen for the almost indiscernible sounds of her paws on the ground and follow it. She will lead them into the light.