My heart goes out to others who have lost a fur child and are grieving. I have friends who don't understand my passion or love for my little friends so I know what that kind of isolation from others who don't understand is all about. During one of my internet journeys I came across this passage. I don't even remmember where. But I did think that it might help others who would find comfort in the sentiment.
The second day will occur eight or nine or ten years later. It will be a day like any other. Routine and unexceptional. But, for a surprising instant, you will look at your longtime friend and see age where you once saw youth. You will see slow deliberate steps where you once saw energy. And you will see sleep where you once saw activity. So you will begin to adjust your friend's diet--and you may add
a pill or two to her food. And you may feel a growing fear deep within yourself,
which
bodes of a coming emptiness. And you will feel this uneasy feeling, on and off,
until the third day finally arrives.
And on this day--if your friend and God have not decided for you, then you will be
faced with making a decision of your own--on behalf of your lifelong friend, and
with the guidance of your own deepest Spirit. But whichever way your friend
eventually leaves you---you will feel as alone as a single star in the dark night. If
you are wise, you will let the tears flow as freely and as often as they must. And if
you are typical, you will find that not many in your circle of family or friends will
be able to understand your grief, or comfort you.
But if you are true to the love of the pet you cherished through the many joy-filled
years, you may find that a soul--a bit smaller in size than your own---seems to
walk with you, at times, during the lonely days to come. And at moments when
you least expect anything our of the ordinary to happen, you may feel something
brush against your leg--very very lightly. And looking down at the place where
your dear, perhaps dearest, friend used to lay---you will remember those three
significant days. The memory will most likely be painful, and leave an ache in
your heart---As time passes the ache will come and go as it has a life of its own.
You will both reject it and embrace it, and it may confuse you. If you reject it, it
will depress you. If you embrace it, it will deepen you. Either way, it will still be an
ache.
But there will be, I assure you, a fourth day when---along with the memory of
your pet---and piercing through the heaviness in your heart---there will come a
realization that belongs only to you. It will be as unique and strong as our
relationship with each animal we have loved, and lost. This realization takes the
form of a Living Love---like the heavenly scent of a rose that remains after the
petals have wilted, this Love will remain and grow--and be there for us to
remember It is a love we have earned. It is the legacy our pets leave us when they
go. And it is a gift we may keep with us as long as we live. It is a Love which is
ours alone. And until we ourselves leave, perhaps to join our Beloved Pets--it is a
Love that we will always possess.
-Written by Martin Scot Kosins,
Author of "Maya's First Rose"
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