A good dog never dies, he always stays; he walks beside you on crisp autumn days when frost is on the fields and winter’s drawing near, his head is within our hand in his old way. ~ Mary Carolyn Davies, American Poet
Last night I had the strangest dream.
I was walking down a deserted, dimly-lit street at dusk. In the fading twilight I spotted a scared, skinny little dog with a bloody gaping wound on the left side of his head.
At first he appeared to be afraid of me as I approached him. But as I bent down and held my hand out to him, he crept cautiously toward me, crouching low to the ground. I reached out a little farther and touched him with my hand, telling him I loved him.
That was the end of the dream, and I woke up.
Then one of my spirit guides came to me, complimenting me for what I had done. I wasn’t sure why he was complimenting me. He said that dog in the “dream” was a real physical dog somewhere on the planet, and he had just died.
My guide, continued, saying, “The last thing that little creature remembered is the warmth of your voice and the kindness of your touch.”
Then I had a waking vision of the little dog being picked up by an angel and carried acrossthe rainbow bridge. I was stunned.
We never know how our words, thoughts or deeds will touch the life of another being and help them heal. In this story, death was the healing.
P.S. If you love dogs as much as I do, check out our book, Dogs: Heart-Warming, Soul-Stirring Stories of Our Canine Companions.