When animals enter our life, we start on a journey filled with adventure, learning, and love. The animals reach deep into us and change us in ways that can hardly be described. We grow in love. And upon their leaving, we are lost, devastated. Over time, we explore the story and see the meaning, and stand in awe of these remarkable beings. What an honor they give us when they walk a part of our lives with us.
—Barbara Janelle
When our beloved animal friends depart this world, whatever the circumstances, we often feel gut-wrenching emotions over the loss. Anger, sadness, guilt, fear, and denial may hold us in their grip. It’s natural to feel devastated when we lose the presence of the animal friends who bring us so much joy, love, pleasure, and even enlightenment. Cathy Malkin-Currea relates her experience:
When my beloved dog, Kite Chaser (KC the Keeshond), suddenly became ill and died in January 2002, I gained a deeper understanding of the dying process and the insidious nature of grief. I still grieve for KC’s physical presence, but I now know that the depth of my grief is a reflection of the depth of love I have for him.
To find relief and eventually peace, we have to face, accept, and express the darker feelings, along with the happiness we have shared with our beloved animal companions. Writing a memorial poem or story, or doing a work of art or a photo collage in their memory and sending it to others who have also loved your animal companion can help you to honor, move through, and release your loss. Having a ceremony or a party with friends, joining a support group, or going for grief counseling can all be part of honoring your animal companion and your feelings, and learning to accept death as part of the cycle of life.
Sometimes the guilt and grief can be pervasive and seem impossible to move through. Sharon Callahan expresses the depth of how animals can touch our hearts:
It’s always difficult to lose someone we love, but the death of an animal companion often touches us even more profoundly than the death of a human being. Our animal friends at times grow dearer to us than our closest human friends. They love us so unconditionally and with such great presence that their passing can leave a profound emptiness in the deepest recesses of our heart and soul.
Because most companion animals perform their self-appointed tasks of teaching us about unconditional love and surrender so magnificently, we often experience with them what we have only dreamed of with our human loved ones. When the animal dies, there is a natural tendency, in addition to the grief we experience over their passing, to also feel grief about not feeling loved in the same way by the humans in our lives. We may also experience an outpouring of emotion we would like to be able to express to our human lovers and friends, but feel we cannot. Then our bereavement tends to evolve into nonspecific grief over the lack of love we witness in the world in general, the absence of which is made all the more noticeable by the absence of our four-legged friends.
Our society as a whole denies death. Youth is worshiped, old folks are whisked off to “the home,” and the topic of death is avoided by almost everyone. The witnessing of the full spectrum of an animal’s life brings us face to face with our own mortality and is often the most intimate glimpse of illness, aging, and death that we may ever get.
When an animal dies, we often experience feelings of remorse that compound our grief further. Could I have done more for my beloved companion? Why was I so preoccupied with my work that I failed to notice his illness? Did the treatment plan I chose cause him to suffer more? These questions and many others may haunt us for weeks, months, or possibly years.
Our rational minds may tell us it isn’t logical to grieve so much for an animal companion. However, every bond we share with another being creates a kind of energetic blending of our auras, or energy fields. There is a tearing of this bond when a friend leaves, which can feel like our bodies are being ripped open. We have to heal this energetic wound before we can easily connect with our friend in spirit.
ANIMAL PEACE, HUMAN GUILT
We don’t know everything there is to know about the cycle of life and death. It seems to be part of human nature, or at least our cultural conditioning, to blame ourselves or feel guilty about the death of our animal companions. This assumes that we are in control, or should be in control, of another being’s life and death, or be able to prevent death.
Travis and Carmen had the disastrous experience of having their home burn to the ground, resulting in the loss of some members of their animal family. The most painful loss was the death of their young Siamese cat, Faith. In his attempt to save the horses and chickens while the fire raged, Travis had pushed over a heavy outdoor bench. When Travis and Carmen returned after the fire was over to see if they could find more of the animals, Travis found Faith dead under the bench. He thought he had killed her and couldn’t forgive himself. Weeks later, he consulted me about it.
Contacting Faith was an incredible experience. She had positioned herself over the charred property as a shining, huge spirit and created a large energy field to help the trees and other plants grow. Carmen commented that she and the neighbors, whose properties were also scorched, were amazed that the trees and plants on Carmen’s property were already sprouting new shoots, while the neighbors’ trees showed no sign of life. Faith said that when her job of restoring the land was done and the house had been rebuilt, she would return to her human family as a Siamese cat. She told me her death was not directly caused by Travis. She was in shock and suffering from the smoke and fire, so she hid under the bench. The blow from the bench helped her to leave her body suddenly instead of slowly. She held no bad feelings from the incident.
Faith’s story illustrates that finding out how animals feel after death can greatly assist the whole process of coming to terms with our feelings and finding peace.
ANIMAL SADNESS COMPOUNDING GRIEF
Sometimes, the grief and guilt we feel is compounded by the animal’s sadness at not being able to have the kind of death and timing they needed to feel complete with their lives. Professional counseling and help communicating with the departed animal might be needed to relieve the emotional pain.
Tanya called me because she felt awful about her dog Suki’s recent euthanasia. Twelve-year-old Suki had cancer in her nose, and the vets advised that she be put down. Tanya felt that Suki didn’t want to go, but Tanya was desperate. When I contacted Suki, she was sad and still hanging around Tanya. She had wanted two more weeks to complete her life emotionally, and she felt she had been wrenched from her body.
Suki experienced relief as she communicated with me. At first, she felt she couldn’t move on until she had been around for a few weeks to complete her life with Tanya. As Tanya listened and understood Suki’s communication, I saw Suki spiritually transformed into a beautiful blue light that turned white, like brilliant sunbeams, as she lifted to another dimension. Her transition was complete. She had become Tanya’s angel guardian. Tanya wrote to me about her experience:
When I hung up the phone after talking with you, I went into a room with sunbeams, where she used to bask during the day. The sun shines in through a skylight, and as I gazed into the sky, just trying to be with her, a huge cloud formed itself into the image of her face. Where her ears should have been, were huge, fluffy wings, and surrounding her were many other indiscernible beings. The cloud dissipated within a few minutes. Whether I was just seeing things or not, I felt her and cried and cried. I could let her go, finally, and it did feel free and loving, loving, loving.
Nancy had been distraught over euthanizing Sarah, her mother’s cat, two days before, and she contacted animal communicator Tricia Hart for help.
Nancy cared for her sick mother during her final days, and Sarah was more than Nancy felt she could handle during the trying time of losing her mother. When Sarah got sick and the vet suggested euthanasia, Nancy decided it was the best option. Nancy later worried that she had Sarah euthanized before the cat was ready.
I contacted Sarah and asked her how she was doing, and how she felt about being euthanized. Sarah expressed her surprise and confusion upon finding herself on the other side. She had not been ready to go and, at first, she had no idea what had happened. Sarah showed me an image of herself waking up, looking around, shaking her head with wide eyes, and trying to discern where she was.
Sarah felt a little remorse that she had not been there for Helen (Nancy’s mother) during her transition, which is one of the reasons Sarah wanted to stay on Earth. Sarah quickly mentioned that Nancy should be told she was fine. Sarah had adjusted to her situation and was happy to help Helen from the spiritual dimension. Sarah did not want Nancy to feel bad about what had happened. The decision had been made, the injection was administered, and there was no reason to spend any time feeling bad about what could not be changed.
Nancy seemed to get some relief from Sarah’s communications. Although the burden of losing her mother was heavy, letting go of the worry about Sarah helped her cope.
Even when animals find some aspect of their death confusing or surprising, they generally love to connect with their human companion and are completely understanding and forgiving of any details surrounding their departure. Knowing this can help you release any guilt about not doing something “right” in your animal friend’s dying process.
HUMAN GRIEF HOLDING BACK AN ANIMAL
Sometimes human grief and attachment to having the animal in the physical body may prevent an animal who has already departed from being completely free in the spiritual realm.
Mary Ann contacted animal communicator Catherine Ferguson for grief counseling after the death of Ginger, her golden retriever. Catherine explains the experience:
I found that Ginger wasn’t integrating into her new surroundings in the spiritual realm because Mary Ann’s grief was holding her back. We discussed various ways that Mary Ann could honor Ginger’s life and lay her to rest.
After the second session, I learned that Ginger was adjusting to her new life in spirit and was being groomed to become a spirit therapy dog for young children confined to hospitals. She was sure she would enjoy the work. Mary Ann was still sad for her loss, but she was happy to see that her efforts to release Ginger were paying off.
A few days later, Ginger came to me in a dream. She was doing a slow, deliberate dance, standing on her hind legs, stepping one or two steps to the right, then back to the left. She kept time by snapping her front toes as if they were fingers. She had a good dancing style and a good sense of rhythm. I understood the message for Mary Ann was that Ginger was doing well, regaining her strength, and enjoying herself. Mary Ann told me that she and her husband frequently danced with Ginger, so the dog was obviously acknowledging a shared activity and showing that she hadn’t forgotten how to dance.
Mary Ann didn’t need any more sessions with me, and a few months later she was able to bring a new puppy into her life.
From this, we learn how important it is to move through your own grief process and get whatever help you need, both for your sake and to help your animal friend move on.
MOVING THROUGH THE GRIEF
There are many ways we can help ourselves heal from the loss of our animal friends. Barbara Janelle addresses her clients’ grief with a process that gives people a chance to speak about their animals, explore their stories, and recognize the awesome gifts the animals offered. Try this for yourself, either speaking to a friend or writing down the answers:
COMING TO TERMS WITH ANIMAL DEATH—THE ANIMALS’ VIEW
Kate was extremely upset when she communicated to me about a friend’s husky wolf mix, Roy, who had killed her cat, Sheila. It happened while Kate was taking care of the dog in her home. Kate played with Roy and then went inside to clean the house. When she went out again to check on Roy, she found him trying to get Sheila, who was clawing at him on top of a pile of boards. Kate couldn’t get Roy to leave so she grabbed her cat by the scruff of the neck. Roy grabbed Sheila by the belly and pulled her out of Kate’s hands, shaking the cat until she was lifeless. Kate threw things at Roy to try and stop him, but she only succeeded in getting the cat away from Roy when she kicked at him. By then it was too late. She felt the dog had intended to eat the cat’s body.
Kate was miserable and asked me to tell Sheila she was sorry. She wanted me to tell Roy that what he did was wrong, and now he could not visit her because of her other cats.
Your animal friends can receive your communications without someone else repeating what you want to say, but you may feel so distraught that you are unable to communicate or receive well. Therefore, it can be helpful to have a neutral party assist you. When I checked in with Sheila, she had this message for Kate:
Dearest friend,
Know that I am at peace. I am in a beautiful space of oneness. In this realm, the birds sing cheerfully, the sky is blue, the sun is warm, the air is fresh and full of good smells, and everything is so peaceful. There are other cat spirits here, and dogs, other large and small animals, and plenty of humans. We are all transparent to each other. That is, we can see through and be with each other in any way we wish. There is no danger, pain, frustration, or misunderstanding. It is indeed heaven—what Earth would be like at its best, in pure harmony with all beings.
There is nothing you could have done to prevent this transition of my spirit from physical form to the spirit realm. Roy and I locked into each other when I first saw him. We were magnetically attracted to each other, and we both knew there was something we were meant to accomplish together. At first, it was scary when you tried to rescue me and he grabbed my body, but instantly I was catapulted out of my body and felt a sense of joy and freedom I had never known. I watched the scene from afar. It was like watching a movie from the sky, only with eagle-eye vision. I knew that I had been given a great gift, because now I would not die a slow death as my body decayed. I was swiftly moved to the place where I belong as a spirit in perfect peace.
I’m sorry you suffered and blamed yourself for my death, but I was meant to leave. I don’t want you to misunderstand the motives and actions of Roy and me. It was our pact, our doing. Don’t think of him as a bad dog. He was doing what came naturally for him and in relationship to me. I also aroused his hunting instinct by my actions. It was all perfectly orchestrated for a swift transfer. Please understand. It was exciting for him. I made it so by my nature as a cat and my actions. I was meant to be part of him and he part of me. Now we are totally one. We understand and feel this on the deepest spirit level.
I wish you acceptance that brings peace, instead of misunderstanding that brings suffering. I love you and appreciate the great life in the sun we had together on Earth. It all seems so perfect to me now. I see exactly how and why I lived, and the perfection of returning to my spirit home. All is well. Let it be so with you. I wish you the peace that I feel now.
I also checked with Roy about the incident. He felt Kate’s hurt and anger toward him, and was sad that she was upset. He felt deep inside that his nature was to live with people according to their pack rules, but he also experienced the instinct to hunt, as was natural to his breeding. Roy normally did not express the urge to hunt and kill other animals because his life was generally structured by humans and this was not aroused. However, he felt excited and focused with Sheila in the hunting game. There was such a strong energy propelling him to grab and kill the cat, and to become one with her by ingesting her body. He also felt on a deep level that he was meant to play this part with her. Roy was sorry Kate was so hurt, and had accepted that Kate did not want him around her cats, feeling that his action was very wrong for her. He wasn’t sure if anything like that would happen again with other cats; it all happened so quickly for Roy and could not be undone. I experienced Roy as a loving, lively, and intelligent dog. He was not malicious in his intent. Just as he and Sheila had said, he was following their united action and intentions.
This example and the next show us that no matter how much we want everything to be “perfect” for our animal friends, they sometimes plan their lives and deaths in surprising ways that may be contrary to what we want for them. Some things are beyond our control.
Toni bottle-fed her cat Michaela from the time she was a few days old and saved her life. This led to a tremendous bond between the two of them. However, their time together on Earth lasted only a couple of years, until Michaela’s traumatic death. Despite the years that had passed since Michaela’s death, counseling, and working with her grief and the guilt she felt about how Michaela had died, Toni was having great difficulty dealing with the loss. Her counselor felt that communication with Michaela might bring Toni the relief she sought. Toni called animal communicator Sondy Kaska for help. Sondy tells about her consultation with Michaela and Toni:
Michaela came barging into my consciousness. She appeared as a petite, black-and white-spotted kitty with boundless energy. She demanded to know, “What’s taking her [Toni] so long?” Michaela wanted Toni to heal and to know she was not upset with Toni about her death. She said to tell Toni she did nothing wrong.
Michaela said she came to Toni to help her grow and to open her heart. Michaela said she taught Toni to laugh again, and commented that she will be back, maybe in a different form.
“I might try another form. I love adventure!” Michaela said. Toni confirmed that little Michaela had always been adventurous.
Michaela showed me where she was in the spiritual realm. It was peaceful, with lots of sunshine in a meadow filled with flowers and butterflies. Michaela said she loved the sunshine and could never get enough of it on Earth.
Toni told Michaela how intensely she loved and missed her. It was important to Toni that Michaela know she had a tremendous amount of gratitude for what Michaela had taught her about love. Michaela said she already knew and that she was right there with Toni all the time.
Michaela said, “Mom, don’t you feel me?” Toni didn’t, but Michaela was there, watching over her. Michaela said that Toni needed to let her go. Toni’s feelings of guilt about Michaela’s death were overwhelming. I asked her what had happened.
Toni had been moving. She thought that Michaela was safely locked in the bathroom, so she had propped the front door open while some bigger pieces of furniture were being moved out of the house. However, the bathroom door did not close tightly, and Michaela was able to pry it open. She got out of the bathroom and then darted out through the open door.
Two neighborhood dogs had escaped from their yard and ventured into Toni’s yard. Toni ran to Michaela’s aid and tried to fend off the dogs, but they were in a frenzy and attacked Toni. She was able to pull Michaela away, but the dogs got her again and that was the end.
Toni always felt she had made a mistake by not running indoors the instant she grabbed Michaela away, but instead she put the cat on top of the fence post while she tried to get the dogs out of the yard. Toni felt she had lost her chance to save Michaela and had failed her dear cat.
Michaela’s view was that Toni did nothing wrong and that what happened was not her fault. I asked what else Michaela had to say about her death.
“I didn’t know fear, and I was going to teach Mom not to be afraid, but this wasn’t a good example of how to do it,” she replied.
Michaela continued, “I know she feels bad, but it wasn’t her fault. It was my time to go. She’s never going to heal unless she quits blaming herself.”
Michaela also showed me that when the dogs attacked for the last time, her spirit left her body and she escaped the pain of the attack. One minute Michaela was in her body, and the next moment she was gone. Toni always wondered why—if Michaela was still alive when she put her on the fence post—she didn’t jump down and run to safety. Michaela responded that it was her time to go. Toni said that at the time of her cat’s death, she saw something she could only describe as a swooping bird.
Toni said Michaela had opened her up to more joy than she had ever known, and Michaela reminded her that joy is always available. Michaela did not wait for anything to happen or wish for things to be different. She had experienced joy in the world each day with the sunshine, a butterfly to chase, grass to roll in, and in everything she did.
I asked Michaela why she chose to leave at the time she did.
“You cannot really know joy until you know the biggest sorrow,” she said. “I taught Toni all I could about joy without showing her the sorrow. My mission, my job in life is to teach people this. I did it for Toni, and now I have to teach others.
Michaela continued, “I know our bond was deeper and more special than anything Toni had ever experienced. My love with my mom needs to be a door for her that opens wide. Because she has so much love in her heart now, she needs to be able to give love to lots of other beings.”
Toni said one of the reasons she had not tried to contact Michaela sooner was because she was afraid that Michaela was angry with her. Toni realized she had been so wrapped up in her guilt and blame that it prevented her from recognizing when Michaela’s spirit was around and still teaching her. Toni knew she needed to release her guilt and blame, but she never felt she had Michaela’s permission to forgive herself. Now she was reassured that Michaela wanted her to forgive herself and move on in order to spread the joy she learned from her beloved little feline.
Michaela ended our session by singing a little song, “Michaela, Michaela, I’ll always be your Michaela,” just like Toni had always sung to her!
WE CANNOT CONTROL DEATH
I learned a graphic lesson about the nature of death from several duck members of our family, and how we may be contributing agents, but we are not usually in control of another’s departure. I’ll relay the story in detail, because it illustrates many aspects of the cycle of life and death.
My first ducklings were two males named Maximilian and Marigold. As they grew, Marigold became aloof, and one day announced that he didn’t want to live here and was going away. I simply acknowledged him, as he did not wish to talk further about it. A week later, Marigold was killed by raccoons. Then I understood that he had decided to leave his body and dwell elsewhere.
Our female Afghan hound, Rana, was a wonderful guardian of the chickens, ducks, and other animals in the family. She kept predators away with great skill and consistency. Rana was embarrassed when I told her the raccoons had killed Marigold during the night. She could hardly believe it. I explained that Marigold had wanted to leave and it was his own choice, but Rana took her job seriously. The next night she stayed on guard near Maximilian and barked at the approach of any wild critter.
Maximilian and I became closer friends after Marigold’s death. However, when he tried to mate with me, I decided he needed a female duck companion! It was love at first sight when Marimba, an adult female duck, arrived. Not only did Maximilian vigorously mate with her, but he caressed and loved her with great devotion.
Maximilian defended Marimba from any other animal that approached. He particularly directed his attacks at Rana. He would lunge and bite at her, even when she was peacefully sleeping. I counseled him not to do this because Rana did not deserve to be attacked. Rana, in fact, was the defender of ducks. Maximilian did not listen. Rana tolerated his attacks and tried to avoid being around him rather than striking back. However, Rana was always startled by Maximilian, and we found later that she resented his blows.
One weekend, my former husband and I were out of town and had house-sitters taking care of things. When we returned at night, Maximilian did not call to us as usual and was nowhere to be found. I did not question everyone then, but I noticed that Rana was a bit quiet. The next morning, I found Maximilian’s body in the yard, his neck broken and torn. Rana must have had enough of Maximilian’s attacks and had struck back. We were all devastated. Maximilian had been special to all of us as the shining, personable communicator he was.
For several days, Marimba cried long honks of grief for Maximilian. Rana felt sick about what she had done and would not eat. We missed him terribly. When I contacted Maximilian, he was angry. He wanted to be back with Marimba and resented his life being cut short. It was December and not the time for baby ducks, so he could not reincarnate in the same species to be back with us right away. He hung around spiritually to look after Marimba, but Marimba was lonely just the same.
I decided to find an adult male duck to keep Marimba company until Maximilian could come back, if by spring duckling season he still chose to do so. I had noticed some domesticated ducks living together on a nearby stream. I went to them and explained that I needed a male companion for Marimba.
A male duck I was interested in came forward to get close to me, but another male shouted to him, “Danger, she’s going to grab you, watch it.” My chosen male got frightened and hurried back to the stream with the others. I told him I’d be back the next day with a cage to take him home if he wanted to come with me. The next day, he came forward willingly and was docile when I put him in the cage. On the way home, he told me he wanted to be called Geronimo.
Marimba was not impressed with Geronimo. Her first comment was that he wasn’t Maximilian. It was weeks before she allowed him to mate with her, but gradually they became good friends. Maximilian was now planning to return as one of Marimba’s ducklings in the spring. Marimba went to nest, but when she left her nest briefly each day to eat and bathe, our dogs always managed to find out where she was nesting and eat her eggs. She refused to nest in a caged area the dogs could not reach, so her attempts to have ducklings were unsuccessful.
The year went by, and Maximilian kept in touch but did not return. That winter, Geronimo became restless. He had changed from a timid fellow to an aggressive one who attacked people, dogs, cats, or whoever came near. Geronimo was not happy. He wanted to go back to his wild life on the stream.
One day, he insisted that I take him back, along with Marimba. When I asked Marimba if she wanted to go or stay with us, she said she was afraid of going to the stream and wanted to stay. Geronimo then did something I had never seen him do, but which reminded me of how Maximilian had been with Marimba. He nuzzled Marimba all over her neck and face, and said he wanted her to go with him. She agreed.
I waited until the next day, which was perfect weather for their release. It was raining, so I thought there wouldn’t be people walking their dogs near the stream like they did in fair weather. When we took Geronimo and Marimba to a place along the stream where Geronimo had often been, it was raining hard and no one else was around. Perfect, I thought. Marimba will have a peaceful time to get used to being in the wild.
Geronimo waddled into the familiar, deep and wide creek with great joy, quickly swimming to the middle. Marimba was hesitant, but she followed him. They were in the stream about one minute when the unbelievable happened. A black Labrador dog suddenly appeared, raced toward the stream, and leaped in after the ducks. I was horrified and stood helplessly on the shore. Marimba and Geronimo were heavy, domestic ducks, not suited for flying. Marimba flapped and dove for the high weeds on the far shore. She disappeared as the dog swam after her. The dog then chased Geronimo, but he flapped and swam fast downstream, and the dog gave up after about a quarter of a mile.
I looked for Marimba, but I intuitively knew what had happened. The shock and exertion of being chased had killed her almost instantly, as if her heart had burst. The stream was too wide and deep for us to get to the other side, and we never found her body. After the dog was taken away, Geronimo came back, looking for Marimba. He quacked repeatedly for her, but she did not answer. After awhile, he knew she was gone and returned downstream, where the other small group of domestic ducks he already knew usually gathered.
I went home feeling I had killed Marimba. After all, she hadn’t really wanted to go, but Geronimo had convinced her, or had he? I went back an hour later to look again for Marimba, just in case I had been in error about her death. When I returned to the spot, I received a message that totally shifted my awareness of this whole incident.
I tried to contact Marimba to verify what had happened and see how she was doing. Instead, Maximilian came in and said, “Do you really think you are in control of someone else’s fate? I called Marimba to be with me. We were meant to be together, and her time had come. In the garden, when you asked if she wanted to go with Geronimo to the stream, I acted through Geronimo and nuzzled her and encouraged her to come, knowing she would be released from her body to be with me.”
I became aware of Marimba as a spirit near Maximilian, still a bit shocked by the whole affair, but happy that she was with Maximilian. He told me he would take care of her and that now he did not need to come back to Earth.
I felt humbled, filled with the realization that when the time to depart the body comes, there is little or nothing someone else can do about it. One way or another, it will happen. While I was apparently the agent of Marimba’s death or, at least, assisted in the circumstances, I was not the cause. I had no intention of killing her and was simply doing what I thought she wanted. I saw now that Maximilian had arranged it, and Marimba had agreed because of their desire to be together.
FINDING JOY AGAIN
It might seem impossible, when we are wrapped in the throes of grief and loss after an animal departs, but we can find joy again. So much depends on communicating and really feeling the eternal connection with our animal friends.
A client named Roanna had experienced much pain and guilt from the loss of her rabbit, Thumper, a few years prior to consulting with me about it. After I contacted Thumper, Roanna wrote to me:
To my delight, Thumper was taking care of lots of bunnies in a beautiful place with rolling hills, green grass, sweet-smelling air, sunshine, and flowers. The reason Thumper gave for having “checked out” was something that only she and I would know, spoken from her viewpoint: “It was really quiet for a long time, and I wanted to be around lots of bunnies,” Thumper said. “Even if I had babies I wouldn’t let you get rid of them.”
Interestingly, my boyfriend and I had discussed allowing Bogie and Thumper to have one litter before Bogie was neutered, but we decided not to because I would not have been able to let anyone take the babies without lifelong visitation rights. My attitude towards death changed completely after this communication from Thumper.
Through consultations and rediscovering her own telepathic abilities, Roanna kept in touch with Larissa, another rabbit friend, while Larissa was dying of cancer. She then wrote, “Participating in Larissa’s death has been one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. In death there is joy.”
When Chico San, my angora, calico cat, did not come home one day, which was not her habit, we were concerned. I felt she was okay, but as the days went by, I thought she might be dead. Whenever I contacted her, I got that she was in the woods relaxing and hunting, and that she needed this time alone. After about four days, I experienced a vision of her body lying on the forest floor and her spirit ascending with white, golden light, like an angel. Her body seemed asleep. However, when she started assisting me in long-distance healings by adding powerful spiritual energy, I thought she must have died.
In tribute to Chico San at what seemed to be the end of her life on Earth, I made a collage of photos taken of her and hung it in my office. I found peace and joy in celebrating our life together, even though it seemed strange to think she might never walk through the door again.
One morning a week later, Chico San appeared, none the worse for wear except for a few ticks and fleas. She told me she had been on a kind of sabbatical or vision quest for her spiritual advancement. I understood but was so glad to have her back.
ANIMAL GRIEVING
Animals also grieve for the loss of loved ones and may need help in releasing their grief and finding peace. As the following experience shows, ritual can help them, too.
Animal communicator Karen Craft met Caesar, an English bulldog, at a pet store grand opening. He was exuberant because it was his birthday, and his human friends, Robin and Joe, were celebrating by bringing him to talk with Karen and letting him pick out some treats.
A few months later, Robin telephoned to tell Karen that Caesar was despondent and constantly whimpering since the death of her father. Robin tells the story:
My dad died on March 25, 2004. Almost immediately, Caesar changed from being the happy, seemingly carefree puppy we had always known and loved to a nervous wreck who cried all the time. He seemed miserable. He started staying in bed until noon; this little guy had previously always made sure we were out of bed no later than 7:30. We knew something was wrong, and our vet confirmed that he was probably depressed over the passing of my father. My dad had stayed with us for three months just prior to his death. He left our house and died one week later. Caesar had been Dad’s companion all through an illness we thought had been corrected successfully through surgery. Dad and Caesar had been long-standing pals for years. We just didn’t know what to do for the little guy.
In July, my family came to our house for a group journey to Wyoming to scatter my dad’s ashes. Just after this, Caesar became more agitated than ever. One day I came home for lunch and Caesar ran up to me and started barking in my face. We knew we had to do something. We remembered meeting Karen at the pet store the previous November, so we called her.
Karen told us Caesar was indeed depressed over Dad’s passing. He felt he was the caregiver in charge of Dad’s health and that he’d failed him, especially since he wasn’t with Grandpa when he passed. He also felt sad that he hadn’t been able to say good-bye.
Caesar had become more agitated after my family’s visit. He could see we had gotten closure. We comforted each other, but no one was comforting him. He was also agitated because my father had given him a message for me.
Karen suggested we conduct a ceremony for my dad. She said Caesar needed the closure, and we needed it as well. Karen also recommended we do one or more smudges (use of burning herbs for purification) after our ceremony.
Then Karen told us she had Caesar’s message from my dad, but it didn’t really make sense. She said my dad told Caesar to tell us that he apologized. As soon as Karen said that the hair on my husband’s and my neck stood on end. It made perfect sense to us. We used to chastise Dad for apologizing all the time, often when he had not even contributed to the problem.
So we planned our ceremony. We gathered a ton of my Dad’s possessions and piled them on the floor. We lit a red candle (Dad’s favorite color), and brought out the poetry we had used at the ceremony in Wyoming. Then we called the dogs in. Brutus came first and sat next to Joe and me. Caesar came in and climbed on top of the pile of my Dad’s stuff (very uncharacteristic of him) and sat there. I explained to the dogs that we were gathered to say goodbye to Grandpa and the ceremony was to bring closure for all of us. Then we read the poetry and talked some more. As soon as we had concluded the ceremony, Caesar stood up, picked up one of my Dad’s baseball caps, and started to shred it. Halfheartedly, I tried to take it away from him, but he grabbed it and ran across the room. He ripped the cap into pieces somewhat violently, which was not like him.
When he finished shredding, he picked up the whole mess, walked over to me and placed it in my lap. Then he lay down next to the pile of my dad’s stuff and stayed there for about ten minutes. After awhile, I went over and lay down about a foot away from him. He got up and walked over to me; we sat together for a few minutes and then he walked away and sat with his back to me. That’s when I knew the ceremony was really over.
Caesar improved a little, immediately after the ceremony. After the first smudge he improved more, and after the second smudge (a month later) he was back to being our same carefree guy. It was exactly as Karen had said.
Karen had been a bit nervous about suggesting to Robin and Joe that they hold a private funeral service for their dogs to attend. But they liked the idea and lovingly carried it out. Caesar knew just how to express his frustration over not having the chance to say good-bye to his beloved grandpa and then being unable to attend the formal funeral—as if he weren’t part of the family! His human family had given him a beautiful, sensitive opportunity to do his emotional healing.
WHALE ADVICE ON HANDLING DEATH
Not only do we have to contend with the emotions that come with our animal companions’ deaths, but strong feelings, including helplessness, anger, sorrow, and revenge may surge when we witness or hear about the death of wild animals, especially those caused by human actions. Animal communicator Teresa Wagner received counsel from the great whales on how to work with this.
The day was exceptionally warm for early October on the waters off of Provincetown, Massachusetts. Sitting on the bow of the boat, feeling the warm, gentle breezes touch my skin and hair, I was delighted to need only a T-shirt and shorts to go whale watching in the Gulf of Maine. I had been traveling here for many years to see humpback whales during the spring and fall weather, but this was the first time it was so warm out on the water. Little did I know that soon I would be stunned by a bigger surprise and offered one of the most important lessons of my life.
As we made our journey offshore to the humpback feeding grounds of Stellwagon Bank, passing the long, sandy shoreline of the Provincetown peninsula, I was in great spirits. It was a long weekend; I was in the company of good friends; and I felt the joyful anticipation of soon seeing humpbacks—my family, my elders, my teachers and guides whom I love beyond measure.
Suddenly, I heard one of my friends standing at the railing say, “Oh God, don’t let Teresa see this.” Everyone was moving to the side of the boat facing the shoreline. I felt dread inside. I knew something was wrong involving a whale. I moved to the side of the boat and saw the dead baby humpback lying on the beach, and the dorsal fins and spouts of two adults swimming nearby. My heart broke seeing the exquisite, young humpback’s body, out of her water element and lying lifeless on the edge of land where she didn’t belong. The on-board scientist began to speak about the research that would be done to determine possible causes of this death. She cited statistics about collisions with boats and boat motors, entanglements with fishing nets, and toxins in the water as common causes of injury, disease, and death of whales in this area and around the world.
As I listened, I felt a wretched rip of grief in my heart like fire. Although I was already well aware of the many human-caused deaths of whales, hearing it again while actually looking at this beautiful, dead whale child, consumed me with anger toward the humans who every day directly and indirectly cause the death of whales for profit or science. I was angry, heartbroken, and inconsolable.
I went to a far corner of the boat to be alone, telling my friends I needed some quiet time. Just when I thought I might never overcome my struggle to come to peace, I heard a familiar beloved voice.
“I am here to hold and support your heart, and to help you see how to better serve the whales you love. You’ve taken a wrong turn here, and I will help you find your way back. It’s time for you to learn an extremely important lesson, one that will decrease your own pain of outrage and grief, and also help the whale who has died and all those who love her.”
It was the voice of the first whale I had ever seen in this life, a soul with whom I had a long history and who supports me as a father and wise guide. Sometimes, I get lazy and don’t listen or act on the intuitive messages and help I receive. But when he speaks to me, I always listen. He continued.
“I am going to help you channel the overwhelming, natural energy of your grief into powerful support for the one who has died, for her loved ones, those who may have harmed her, and yourself. This is what I want you to do:
“First, take a deep breath, steady yourself, and fill yourself with love. Get back in touch with that wellspring of love within you that you know is limitless and ever present. Allow your soul to support your broken heart. Fill your heart and every cell in your body, and every space in your energy field, with great love. Gently, completely. Remember the being of love that you are. From this centered place of your soul, which knows peace even in the midst of chaos and pain, remember this: you are never helpless to shower someone who is suffering with great love, even when you cannot help on the physical plane.
“Second, send this great love to the soul of the whale who has died. Send love with peace and gentleness, yet with great power and intention from the depth of your soul. Surround the soul of the whale with all the love of the universe. Thank her for having graced the Earth with her presence. Ask for blessings for the journey of her soul through all time and space. Bow to her in awe and gratitude for all she was and is.
“Third, send this same great love, and also comfort, to the loved ones of the whale. As much as you hurt, they are the primary grievers of this loss, and they hurt even more. It’s important to tend to them before yourself. Surround them with great depths of love and the energy of soft, nurturing comfort and compassion. Let them know they are not alone in their grief—that you, too, care deeply about their great loss.
“Fourth, send the same great love and deep compassion now to those you believe may have caused the death of this whale and others—those you see as the perpetrators. This is where you took a wrong turn earlier. You became stuck when you went directly into anger at those who caused the suffering, rather than going first to love. Now, send the same limitless love to those known and unknown to you who created this death, to those who are not yet able to see and act from their hearts, and to those who are not yet conscious enough to see the souls of animals. Send them love, for it’s only with compassion and love that their consciousness will expand and their hearts will understand. Send them compassion, because at one time you, too, were not as conscious as you are today, and it was from the compassion of others that you grew.
“Finally, express and tend to your own grief and pain. Do what you must to express your own grief and anger. Honor your feelings, however deep, dark, confusing, or contradictory they may be. Ask for help from beings you trust, on Earth and in spirit, to help you understand and fully release your pain.
“Do not expect the one who died or her loved ones to support you. They are the primary grievers and need your support. You are a secondary griever and need support from others. There is always enough love and support for everyone. It’s important to discern when and where to turn for help.
“Now is the time for you to take care of yourself. Reach out for help from your own soul and from earthly and spiritual beings who will understand. Your own heart and pain is as important as the suffering of the whales. Tend to yourself now with great compassion and love.”
I followed his suggestions as he spoke them. Remarkably, by the time I completed the second step, my own anger and grief was tremendously lessened. By the time I got to the step of asking for and receiving help for my own heart, hardly any help was needed because I was so filled with the grace of meeting these souls with love.
I still get angry with people who harm animals. I still grieve deeply when animals die. But now I consciously respond and process my feelings in a different way and in a different order. This allows me to better serve the animals I love so much, and allows my own suffering to move to quiet acceptance and peace much sooner.
I use this process when I see animals on the side of the road, obviously killed by a human’s vehicle. I used to feel greatly overwhelmed by grief. I was angry at speeding drivers and the humans who have allowed animal habitat to be turned into highways. Now, using this process, I no longer feel overwhelmed and alienated. I am part of the healing of all beings. My level of compassion has matured. My ability to help has increased, and I am grateful.
This process is not about ignoring one’s own grief—it’s about dealing with it after first offering love and compassion to those directly impacted.
The process is not about pretending suffering does not exist, that people on Earth do not harm animals, or condoning what they do. It’s about showering those who create suffering with love, rather than adding the energy of anger and hatred to souls already unconscious about animals.
The process is not about sending love instead of practical help. It’s about sending love in addition to any political action, rescue efforts, or donations you might choose to make.
My whale father described it best when he told me it’s about channeling our overwhelming, natural energy of grief and anger in response to harm into powerful support for the animals who are harmed, their loved ones, those who have caused the harm, and ourselves. It’s about showering love on those who suffer, and offering this prayer: May all beings be at peace. May all beings be bathed in love and compassion.
The whales gave this process as help to Teresa and all of us. Try it for yourself when you become overcome with emotion about the suffering or death of animals.