Last night I dreamed I met a man that caused my heart to open and feel…deeply feel. In the dream he left because he couldn’t open his heart and trust. I woke up sad, knowing that what we had was profound and he walked away, unwilling to take a risk on love.
I laid in the dark, listening to welcomed rain and thought of Buddy, my best friend, who died almost three weeks ago. He came into my life three years after my last relationship with a man ended. My heart was so closed and I was so wounded. Buddy changed that.
He came in as a four-month-old, black and white, bundle of zoomies. Probably a mixture of boxer and Staffordshire terrier, he was the healer I needed to risk opening my heart.
Buddy climbed trees, much to my horror. But like any good parent, I supported his love of flying. He loved to ride with me, go on walks, chase squirrels, snuggle, and be an amazing cat brother. And eventually, after moving back to the Smokies, a dog brother.
We were best friends from the beginning.
Immediately after he passed, I was relieved he wasn’t in pain or suffering, so that eased my sadness and grief. His illness was very short and intense. But then, after the trauma of that was processed, the deep grief is left. And I’ve been feeling his loss intensely.
Yesterday, his river stone memorial marker arrived. As did the flute I ordered when he was so sick. I had always wanted a flute from JP Gomez in Sedona, so I decided to order the flute as a memorial to Buddy and his love of my flute playing.
So tears again came as Vern and I placed Buddy’s stone over his grave and as I played the flute. And this morning, I had the dream and realized my heart had healed because of Buddy. Even his passing helped open my heart even more. I determined to stay conscious during his illness and dying. To really be present with the process of living, dying, and death. And with that, Buddy finished his work with me and was free to move on to his next ‘assignment.’
Love opens us. When we surrender to it, it opens our hearts. When the being, that we are in relationship with, physically leaves–in whatever way they leave–it is incredibly painful…probably because we associate the love with the physical. But love transcends the physical/material realm and helps us connect with Source. It opens us to the Infinite. We expand spiritually, emotionally, mentally, and physically through love.
Buddy’s transition from being by my side physically to being a Spirit Dog has helped me understand love more and how love survives and continues. Long after the body has turned to dust…love remains. And heals us if we keep opening and breathing and feeling the profound Infinite touching us through every breath, through every heartbeat.
I can’t believe I’m sitting here with my boys, as one of them negotiates his crossing from the physical wild-dog dimension into Spirit. They are cuddled with each other, Buddy’s feet and legs pushing against me. This is where he feels best. I watch his breathing…too fast. Heart rate too fast, too. He seems to go between here and that other place of peace….in and out of bliss…pain and bliss…pain and bliss.
Buddy came to me as a four-month old puppy, an amazing soul filled with such joy. He was named after Buddy the Elf, whose joy and love of the good was epic. We’ll probably watch that movie a bit later tonight.
His claim to notoriety was that he climbed trees. In utter and complete wild abandon, this boy would take a running start and climb up the side of massive oak trees and stand on the limbs, high over my head, like he had accomplished the most amazing feat ever.
Buddy has been my protector, my best friend, and taught me to open my heart after it was broken by one-too-many failed relationships with men. Buddy showed me that males could be trusted, could be counted on, and could love me unconditionally.
He is almost ten years old now, and his jet black has turned mostly white on his face. He raised Tawanda, my little wild kitten, and Vernon, the hound from hell (in his youth). I wanted to get another dog so Buddy could have company, but also so he could teach another dog how to be amazing….how to be freaking awesome! And he did. He taught Vern how to be the most sensitive, loving, boy-dog I’ve ever known.
Vern knows Buddy is in pain and is figuring out the next step of his journey. Tawanda knows, too. She laid with us on the sofa for a while. Buddy has been an amazing Brother Mother to these two beings.
Less than two weeks ago, I found a tumor on Buddy’s shoulder bone. I knew, when I felt it, it was bad. It spread quickly to his neck and embedded there…within a couple days of me discovering it… I knew that it was aggressive and that Buddy would absolutely hate being handled, restrained, cut open, given drugs. He has always lived his life on his terms.
When I clip his nails, give him heartworm preventative meds once a month, or gabapentin for his leg pain, he doesn’t refuse me, but goes to the door and stands waiting. I’m letting you do this, but I don’t have to. I understand, Buddy. The vet techs have never understood his need to have space, so vet visits are always such an ordeal.
Giving someone space, not forcing the way you want it to be, is the ultimate respect.
No, this isn’t a dog that would appreciate the type of medical intervention this tumor would require, so I listened to him and decided to simply hold a space for him to negotiate his life and his death in a way that honors him, respects him, and above all keeps a loving, peaceful atmosphere.
Tears stream down my face as I write this, knowing these are some of the last moments Buddy and I will share in this physical realm. My heart opens to him in deep and profound gratitude. There’s never been another dog like Buddy: hero, friend, protector, clown, zoomie king and champion of my heart.
8/3/25
I slept on the floor beside Buddy last night, thinking he was leaving me any time. I focused on keeping my heart open and asking for any spiritual assistance he needed to do whatever he wanted to do…if it was time to stay or go.
The next morning, I carried him outside and when his feet touched the grass, he seemed to perk up and was more active and even ate some ground meat I cooked for him, like he was waking up from a deep sleep. Partly because I sensed he hated the pain meds that I was giving him. When I stopped them, he definitely came back to life and showed happiness again and wagged his tail in the helicopter style only Buddy can do.
He continued to bark at squirrels and have improvement over the days, but then gradually he started eating less and his energy waned. Last night, we watched, A Dog’s Purpose, with Vern, Willie Fay and Tawanda. Family movie night in honor of Buddy.
He refused food this morning but was able to walk outside and observe life in the woods. After my morning walk, I asked if he and Vern wanted to go for a ride. He perked up again and was excited to get in his harness, with Vern barking like a banshee with glee.
We drove through Cherokee, and then up on the Blueridge Parkway, a much longer ride than I had planned….but Buddy loves riding so much. By the time we got back home, both pups got in their beds and slept all afternoon.
He’s once again laying on the sofa beside me, breathing labored as the cancer has spread…I can feel it. I’ll do Reiki with him in a few moments and hopefully that will bring him comfort as he makes his way toward that threshold of light.
8/7/25
We go through periods of Buddy not eating, of him receiving a small amount of baby food through a baster to the side of his mouth, on his tongue, to him eating organic ground cooked beef. He goes from sleeping at my side as I work from home, to running after Vernon, who is acting like a psychotic imbecile these days, to not breathing well. It’s challenging to watch him negotiate this and I get impatient over how I can help him. He refuses gabapentin, a pain reliever…as in runs away from me. I think it makes him dizzy or loopy feeling. So, it’s one dose of doggy ibuprofen a day.
He gets Reiki every day and a long session at night. He gets loved on constantly when he’s not sleeping.
Humans tend to want to fix things, but some things cannot be fixed. We can only manage the pain, best we can, and hopefully honor the wishes of our loved one, be it a beloved animal companion or a human relative.
It’s frustrating sometimes to feel so helpless. And Vernon is driving me past any patience I ever thought I had with his obsessive behavior. He tore through two fences today to try and kill a box turtle. I had to stop work and re-route the electric fence wire to the place where he broke through (literally ate the fence). I’m not sure if his bizarre behavior is due to Buddy’s illness, but he’s going to kill himself if he gets caught in broken wires that he has literally chewed through. He got a hefty dose of gabapentin after the fence destruction to help the crazy-eyes calm down.
So, life is turbulent at our home these days. Buddy gets upset when Vernon acts out. Buddy has always been the peace-keeper, the sergeant, and his protégé has regressed to levels that surpass his teenage years when Vern and I almost broke our friendship.
I just want to create a peaceful place for Buddy’s journey and Vern is doing everything in his power to make it as chaotic and insane as possible. It’s a very difficult time.
8/12/25
Vern has calmed down after some attention, medication, and me talking with him and explaining what’s happening. Buddy continues to decline. He’s hurting but doesn’t want me to fuss over him at all. His stubbornness to do things his own way and to hell with the rest of us….it’s challenging. If my energy gets in any way ‘clingy’ or if I say… ‘come here and let me love on you,’ he avoids me. I have to accept Buddy on his own terms, giving him space, and not intervening until I have to give him pain meds and that is not up for discussion.
Today, his mood is very low and I can see him negotiating his way but also holding back. I keep reassuring him that it’s okay to let go, to be free…to run again like a puppy. But he holds on, ever loyal to me and to his two kids he raised…Tawanda and Vernon.
I made an appointment with the vet for Thursday at 2.30pm to plan pain management. I’m hoping he will silently and easily slip out of his painful body and run free before then. It’s how I felt about my dad after he was sick and in pain for so long. I carried guilt for wanting him to cross over, but also knew that his suffering needed to be over and done after so many years of debilitating illness. Buddy’s illness, as short as it has been, has opened up wounds around my father’s illness and death that I thought were healed but I find myself spiraling deeper into clearing those energy patterns.
I see patterns of anger, fear, even how I spend money all related to losing my father when I was in college…but I actually gradually lost him over ten years of illness. Little-by-little his body faded. My family never talked about it…it was taboo back then to discuss such things. I remember as a teenager sitting at the kitchen bar with my mom and her saying she just couldn’t talk about it. In some ways, we all became lost from each other during that time when it got really, really bad. Everyone sort of disappeared.
So, Buddy is showing me how to remain open and honest about my feelings, how to speak truth when in the depths of grief…not just for him but for my dad. I feel I’m crying tears for my dad I never shed. And that was 44 years ago…when I was 21 and my brother was 16.
When my mom’s dog Sambeaux passed 10 years ago, we were all there…my mom, brother and me. It felt like the first time we openly grieved together…about so much more than Sam’s passing. I followed Sam into that space of freedom as I had my hands on him. It was amazing and admittedly, I did NOT want to return. But I was turned back from going further. I escorted him only to the threshold and what I felt and saw with my inner vision was something that took away all fear of death.
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It’s not death I fear, but being left behind. And I fear the pain of not seeing Buddy every day. Of not seeing his helicopter tail express his glee at my return from wherever I’ve been.
8/14/25
Today I asked the vet help Buddy let go. He was in so much pain, but ever my protector and the household sergeant, he just couldn’t let go. I had scheduled a pain management visit with the vet for today, but when I woke up and checked on him, he was just ready. His breathing was labored and the pain had obviously become much worse. So, we changed his appointment type and he released his body at 2.38pm today.
I watched his last breath leave him….his spirit. And a few minutes later, I felt a love bomb from Buddy come running through my heart…truly, his huge energy blasted through me and I knew he was free.
Vern got to see Buddy before the Earth Cradle received his body. And as his body lay there and I was filling in the soil, Vern went to the side and sat down and just stared off into the vast space of these mountains and grieved.
After we finished, Vern and I went to water, for healing. Vern and I have to form a new bond, a new depth to our relationship. Buddy will always be with us…no doubt! A dog with that much power doesn’t fade just because his body is gone. But it will be different and with no one to intercede, Vern and I will learn to communicate better and will lean on each other.
This morning, I was digging the Earth Cradle for him as he laid on the porch, watching…struggling to breathe. I reflected on our time together and remembered the lessons he taught me, even today as I shoveled and sweated. He taught me to never change who I am to be ‘loved.’ A couple of years after my divorce, from the guy that refused to allow me to have dogs (what WAS I thinking) I adopted Buddy. And he helped me learn to love every part of myself and to never give up on being who I am…in my deepest self.
I am a dog lover, an animal lover, a Nature lover with a heart filled with love and compassion for all. Thank you Buddy Baba for helping me remember.
