by Donald Bowerman
I am awake and find the sun rising above the hills that surround the valley in which I live. It is one of those early morning panoramas that should instill warmth and hope in me as this new day dawns. To most people, it will be a glorious morning, made so by the golden rays that cascade upon the things of nature which I now survey. But I want the sun to stop its ascension, for in its movement I know that Time moves with it. And I want Time to stop. Now. I want to go back even for just a few hours to embrace a loved one again, to walk together, to play, to touch and be touched.
A few short hours ago, my friend and companion for the last nine years passed from this life to that reward which he now enjoys. I buried him in a grove of trees that I shall forever look upon from this window by which I sit and pen this eulogy. Even as I look out to his resting place, the sun washes the trees with its ethereal light and replaces the darkness that moments ago shrouded this now most hallowed ground.
I first met him in the summer of 1989. His given name was Holy Smoky Okeedoekee. Yet for all his life with me, he was just plain Smoky, though I often called him Smoke. My little guy was a Shetland Sheepdog, Sheltie, as they are affectionately known. For nearly nine years, he was the source of a love and companionship that few humans have truly known and fewer still appreciate. Surely, there must be others around this revolving orb who are suffering as I suffer because they, too, have recently lost a friend and companion. The unsympathetic would simply say that a dog has died, one less animal in the world. I feel so sorry for them because they cannot possibly know how much joy these unpretentious creatures from God bring to our lives. Their love is the only love given which is pure and unadulterated. I believe human children experience this in their early years, but soon they, like adults before them, learn to mistrust and to doubt and then love becomes something to be questioned and challenged, as they grow older. I believe dogs never know this, never understand hate and petty jealousies. They know only to love and to be there when they are neededand they always do and they always are.
Smoky loved me for nine years and I loved him. He brought me endless joy and pleasure as we lived together in those places we called home. Each was special because we shared it together. My buddy was always there for me. He was there for me yesterday and last night as we shared what became our final moments together. He seemed so tired, yet he proudly held his head to me for those touches from my hand that were all he ever wanted in return.
Today, in the stillness of the early dawn, he went to sleep. And then it was over. Our earthly journey together was ended. But only in the physical sense, I know. I have my memories, those blessed, wonderful images in my mind of the times we shared. And, oh, they were grand times.
It has often been asked why dogs dont live as long as humans do and yet must die an old age. It was a few months before Smoky and I first met when I received an answer to this great mystery. On that particular snowy March day, I had come home to discover yet another beloved companion had passed away. Lady Blue XI, my Siberian Husky, had lived with me about nine years and she, like Smoky, had entered my life to fill the void left by another faithful dog that had departed this earthly realm in 1980. It was during those grief-stricken hours and days in 1989 that I came to sense a keen understanding of Gods eternal plan for these kind and gentle creatures. The comfort He sent to soothe my unbearable loss came in the form of a dream or awareness concerning the whereabouts of my dog was and what she was now doing. God showed me a young child who had been called home by his Heavenly Father and who had left very bereaved parents, longing as did I to touch and be touched once more. In this dream, I saw huddled in a corner of the childs earthly home, the little dog the boy also left behind. I sensed that the dog was grieving, too, over the loss of his companion. Though it was a grief we humans cannot understand, I still understood beyond any doubt that the love these animals share with us is genuine and real and one we take for granted all too often. This childs furry companion was grieving with the mother and father, tear for tear, though their sorrow was visible, seemingly more tangible.
And then, in my dream, I looked again and I saw my dog, Lady, and she was full of life, as if reborn, and she was playing with this newest of Gods littlest angels and there were smiles on the faces of those who gazed upon their cherished play. God had called my girl home to bring comfort and love and companionship to this lonely child. She arrived at that heavenly venue happy that she could give love again and grateful to be in the arms of someone who would cherish her as dearly as the one she left behind.
Before the dawn this morning, October 20, 1997, my Smoky traveled to a distant and beautiful shore, making that one journey he and I could not share together. In my minds eye, I see him now, running through a fragrant heavenly meadow, dancing and barking, being followed by one of Gods newest little cherubs. Though my heart aches with an unbearable pain as it has before, I can still sense great happiness and love where they are.
Someday, it will be my turn to take the voyage my Smoky took today. We all must. But, oh, how sweet will be the welcome I receive from my family and friends. How precious, too, will be that reunion when I am greeted by my dogs, Smoky and Lady, and all the other four-legged companions with whom I have shared mortal life and immortal love.
The sun is high oerheadand I believe it will be a beautiful day to remember
Oh, would that I could touch and be touched, to love and be loved just once more
DAB 20 Oct 97